Iron Necessity
by cagedbycravings
Summary: "Whatever is done for love, always occurs beyond good and evil." When the 141 is joined by the Paragon task force, the two teams are set to find Makarov. Along the way, they discover more clues linking them to discoveries that will either make or break them.
1. Purpose

Author's Note: I have had this plot for a story floating in my head for months. It initially was supposed to just be a one-shot but has turned into a multi chapter AU taking place beginning before COD MW2.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC's. All canon characters belong to their prospective owners.

Warning: Swearing, Violence.

Special Thanks: I would like to thank Sassy Satsuma and Urgent Orange for inspiring me to work on this. Your writing has brought forth a new desire to challenge my characters in (hopefully) non cliched ways. Bones in particular helped me frame my characters Elyse and Margaux. Urgent Orange's take on Price and Soap has provided more depth into their characters than I could have ever imagined. Thank you!

* * *

"The magnitude of a progress is gauged by the greatness of the sacrifice that it requires."

Margaux Lèvesque had never been one for blatancy. Her final words on the day she left in search of the Godfather of her children, were no exception. A peculiar decision in Esmèrie's mind, as her mother never placed much emphasis on fatherly types. While their relationship was far from platonic, _Parrain_ nor _Maman_ were in positions to ever consider themselves amorous. Elyse reasoned that it was because it would leave them vulnerable. The visage of her twin sister flashed in her mind as her heart flinched from the protruding pain of being separated from her twin. The breathtaking view of the Indian ocean brought some comfort as the young brunette felt the evening waves rush to kiss the last of the late summer air.

A growing shadow caught in her peripherals, as she glanced behind her to see a lithe man with dark eyes and matching hair. His rectangular glasses gleamed causing an unsettling feeling in her stomach. Esmèrie supposed she had no one to blame but herself regarding her mistrust of him. Her decision to contact a Black Dahlia member was out of sheer desperation. Hiring the organization meant two primary stipulations would have to be met. One, she'd go where they deemed safest for however long. And two, she'd forgo any substantial privacy. The latter perturbed her more than she'd let on as she had to at least _appear_ accustomed to their sporadic meetings. He introduced himself as Cillian Hawke. His hallowed cheekbones combined with his slanted hair over his face gave his eyes a haunting darkness. That night they met in hotel lobby, she knew she'd made a mistake. His voice was too smooth. A silvery twist in his Irish accent making her feel as though his words always held a secretive second meaning.

Squeezing her wrist, she forced her bright hazel eyes to lock with his. He towered over her by several inches, sinewy arms never far from her own. He'd never actually touched her. Rather, he almost seemed to enjoy watching her squirm under his gaze. "You've been out here awhile. Why not come inside?"

"I was waiting for the water to cool so I could go for a swim." The words rolled off her tongue faster than she intended, giving away her nervousness.

His lips twitched into a smile. "Very well, then."

Forcing her feet to move, she descended the wooden staircase leading to the private beach, shielded by a cove. Sliding down the hill, Esmèrie didn't mind the sand dusting her brightly colored tunic, nor the sudden sloshing foam inside her strappy sandals.

A conclave folded into the cove as she tucked herself out of sight. A small backpack with some diving gear waited for her. Undressing quickly, she changed into her diving suit before overlooking the cliffside. Diving amongst the jagged rocks had its risks, but it was a small price to pay for a bit of isolation. Diving in as the tide splashed against her hiding place, she entered her sanctuary. The waves extended their welcome to her as she closed her eyes, allowing the natural rhythm of the tide to take her.

She'd always found acceptance in the sea. Discovering the secrets of the unknown brought her solace in a time in which she had been expected to be vain, bitter, and callous to anything outside of the family business. The granddaughter to an arms dealer, Esmèrie's disdain for violence grew at a young age. Her resistance to follow in her family's footsteps hadn't bothered her mother or even her beloved _grand-père._ Her uncles however were a different story. Feeling the invisible marks from their abuse on her body, she shook away the thoughts. Brightened hazel eyes lit up at the sight of a bloom of nomad jellyfish meandering through the water. Their brightened tentacles glimmered white as they gracefully passed. A bloom of babies struggled to follow one of the smallest jellyfish as the presumed parents swam ahead. The sight reminded her of the litter of cousins back home in France. Namely, Ciel. The bespectacled preteen with eyes as blue as the sky and freckles as many as the sun's rays. As a fellow anxious introvert, she immediately bonded with him from the moment they met. Her decision to leave weighed on her shoulders as she continued towards the center of the cove. A ledge extended, granting plenty of space for her small underwater structure. Her alcove of seclusion had taken only a few months to build as most of the material she'd found from abandoned submarines and forgotten slabs of marble from a sunken cruise ship. The steps leading to the entrance splashed under her feet as she slipped inside. There was enough room for a kitchenette, washroom, and a sleeping nook. A large pane window provided a view of the ocean below as Esmèrie stripped off her suit before reaching for the sundress and book she'd been reading. Her laptop rested on a small desk in the corner. Gears, pulleys, and netting from her latest project waited patiently for her return. Finished projects hanged along the walls as she created various inventions to help with removing and neutralizing radiation at the source. She'd always been fascinated with the works of Marie Curie and her work in radiation, beginning her inventions at the age of 8. She began entering competitions by 13 and eventually developed the alias _The Inventor_ to protect her privacy...among other reasons.

She'd just sat down with a snack whenever her laptop dinged. An incoming message from a fellow scientist under the user _Dinesh_ popped up on her screen. She had no idea what Dinesh looked like but based on his text-speak he was around her age and of similar acumen.

 _Dinesh: How's the Neutrality Project coming?_

 _The Inventor: Showing more signs of success. The netting has proven effective at removing radiation from water but still need more effort before I properly see success in removing it from the metals we collected._

 _Dinesh: That's great! Are you still near Kerala?_

 _The Inventor: I am._

 _Dinesh: I'd love to finally meet you. Your prototypes have helped several villages. I'd like to show my thanks over a couple drinks._

A smile spread across her plump lips as Esmèrie glanced towards her netting. Made from the materials that the fisherman used, she added a few solar powered buoys that glowed once charged. The eco-friendly material dissolved the radiation through reverse osmosis. A breakthrough for the environment affected by nuclear leakage. Not enough to satiate her appetite, the scientist was in the beginning phases of true neutralization. Utilizing similar material in her iridescent warp shaped lanterns, Esmèrie had found a way to speed up the process of stabilizing isotopes but had yet to discover a means to properly neutralize the materials. The thought sparked a reminder of the reoccurring weakness she felt. Taking another bite of her scone, she hoped to prevent the oncoming fatigue that had plagued her body in the months since she'd arrived.

Ending the chat, Esmèrie felt the itch to continue working despite the growing symptoms she experienced. In a way she felt it was almost deserved as she constantly battled with whether leaving her family behind was the best decision. In the end, she supposed it wouldn't matter. Her life wasn't meant to be her own. She could accept that. What she couldn't accept is not making the best of the circumstances that befell her.

* * *

Elyse's heart sunk into her stomach as she awoke with dread that morning. Checking her phone, Elyse squinted at the intrusive light. She'd woken up exactly five minutes before her alarm. _Again._ Cursing her luck, she crawled down from her bunk to splash some water on her face. Anxiety still dilated her pupils as she breathed. With time they settled providing a moment of peace in the flickering mirror light. It'd been awhile since Elyse looked at herself. Her once wide set eyes had narrowed from stress. The hazel brightened with effervescent green had become jaded. Small sacrifices, ultimately. She had been warned that enlisting would require a piece of herself. And in her first year, she'd risen to the task each time. Her cheeks had thinned, providing a better bone structure. Her dimples remained, a comforting reminder of what little the Service hadn't taken from her. Her toffee brown hair had just grown long enough to hold in a ponytail as it dusted her shoulders evenly now. She didn't inherit her Mum's magnificent curls or her striking beauty, but she still held her strength and determination.

Elyse heard her roommate shuffle in her bed, as she apologized for waking her. A simple shrug was her response. Typical, as making friends since enlisting had been a joke. She shook her head before reaching her closet. _Might as well get dressed and head to breakfast._

A surge of anxiety resurfaced again that morning. She'd been running and nearly keeled over, drawing the ire of her commanding officer. A man of exceptional kindness, he'd pulled her into his office to discuss the matter.

"You're not one for slacking, what's going on?"

Her eyes dropped as she contemplated her answer. "Just an off day, sir."

He nodded, convinced enough to not push the matter. "Fine, just get it together. A General's coming in to see the division."

Elyse nodded. Her return to her training was renewed with a fervent tenacity as she doubled her speed, striking the targets with precision. Being one of a dozen women in the newly formed Paragon division was an accomplishment all its own as she jogged back to the rest of members, a smirk etched in her features. She heard the whispers amongst the regiment. Arrogant, aloof, easily angered. She'd heard it all. _._. _Small sacrifices that'll lead to the only reason I'm here._

A familiar whisper caught in the wind as she felt her heart race again. Her blood running cold with trepidation. She blinked away the tears pricking at her eyes, as a playful nudge jolted her from her thoughts. She tensed overlooking her shoulder to see lips moving, her ears struggling to hear above the sudden sobbing filling her mind. It only lasted a moment as concerned blue-grey eyes locked with hers. Joseph Allen, one of her few friends in the mixed forces regiment furrowed his brow at me. "You okay, Lèvesque?"

Elyse nodded forcing a smile. "Yeah, no worries mate."

"Always with the mate, stuff. You Brit." He teased as she playfully punched him in the arm. "Come on, we're needed inside. Hey, did you hear about the new iPhone coming out? I hear it has…"

His voice drifted from her ears, as she couldn't shake the dread in her bones. _What could possibly be happening in that prison Esmè calls a home?_

She felt her hand brush with Allen's as he stopped to smirk. "Didn't realize we were at the holding hands stage of their friendship."

He'd receive a playful nudge in the ribs as she chuckled. "Cheeky."

Their attention turned to the General as the room fell silent. A twisting in her gut began again as she listened to what General Shepherd had to say. Very little of his speech stuck out to her, as her mind drifted to her twin. She felt her body internally tighten as if her muscles were curling, her stomach folding in half, her lungs collapsing.

"Which is why we'll be connecting the Paragon division with the 141."

That caught her attention, her eyes sharpening. Women had only been permitted to enlist among the Infantry for the last couple of years. And now that the opportunity for presented itself for her to join the best handpicked fighters on the planet, she'd be one step closer to her reason for joining up with the regiment.

In the meanwhile, Esmè will just have to manage on her own. A pang of guilt struck her heart at the callousness of her words. Her eyes focused forward as the General continued to speak. _It wouldn't be forever. Just long enough for me to fulfill my purpose._

* * *

"Wait, what?" Meat sat up from his reclined position on the couch. "Why the hell is Shepherd connecting another task force with ours? Are we no longer the best handpicked warriors on the planet?"

"Because," Soap released an exasperated sigh. "He feels that it's necessary."

"With all due respect Captain, this is bullshit. What are these kids going to do when shit hits the fan? Cry out for their mommies? And about women joining, what the hell does Shepherd expect to have happen if they are captured? Raped?"

Soap inhaled sharply, irritation clear in his features. "We're all quite aware of the risks involved. The adjoining task force will be no different."

"None of these brats better slow us the fuck down." Meat hissed shooting a sharp glare at his Captain. Soap rolled his eyes, preparing to leave whenever he heard a cockney accent behind him. "When are they arriving?" Ghost propped himself against the wall, arms crossed, eyes unwavering despite the sigh escaping Soap's lips.

"Today. Expect to see quite a number of new faces around." He left before the rumblings of the others reached his ears.

In truth, he had no issues with women joining the military and was quite the supporter of them enlisting amongst the ranks involving special forces. There were risks involved, of course. But MacTavish had prided himself on remaining open minded to the idea that new people would bring new solutions. One of the very few remaining traits of his that hadn't become jaded in his time in the 141. Unfortunately, he knew all too well that the others wouldn't share his mentality. Archer, Meat, and Scarecrow were among the highest strung in the bunch, but none would compare to the vexation held by Ghost.

Sighing, MacTavish cracked his neck before checking his watch. They'd be arriving soon.

* * *

The vehicle came to a stop as a bag jostled her awake. "Wake up." She'd heard the driver call. "We're here."

The orders were simple. Line up and wait to meet their Commanding Officers. Elyse was quick to deduce that typical regulations wouldn't apply here upon seeing Mactavish's mohawk and Riley's mask.

"Welcome to the 141. I'm Captain Mactavish. And this is Lieutenant Riley. Now we realize that due to the new requirements the resting quarters are going to be unusual. Women will be placed near the Medical wing until further notice."

The short introduction followed by the small distance between the separating groups was enough for Elyse to notice the tension radiating throughout the base. If there was one thing Elyse was certain of, it was when she wasn't welcome somewhere. Their uniforms gave them away. Dressed in black t-shirts and forrest green cargo pants, they clearly weren't blending in anytime soon.

Beside her was a shorter strawberry blonde with her hair tied into a messy bun. She did all she could to avoid making eye contact from the other base members. The 141 had earned a reputation for being the best, on the flip side, they'd also become known as a prima-donna squad filled to the brim with attitudes to match. She could feel similar stares behind her as three other women ranging in various height and ages attempted to cover their intimidation. Reaching the make shift barracks, they waited for Riley to finish his speech. "You may be new but that won't make you exempt to any of the expectations here." His cockney tone grated Elyse's ears as she internally counted the moments until he left. The Paragon members were split amongst five rooms with an additional door closed at the end of the hallway. Entering her room, Elyse heard someone sigh in relief behind her. Turning back to her bunk, she began neatly unpacking her belongings.

"Hi." The raised, almost sing-song Scottish accent caused her to tense. "I'm Clover Taylor." The strawberry blonde with round face and oval eyes beamed at Elyse. An awkward pause ensued as Elyse barely overlooked her shoulder. Not without her manners, she gave a forced yet polite nod. "Lèvesque."

"First name or last?"

Elyse shot a blank stare at the strawberry blonde only to watch her fall into a fit of nervous giggling. "Kidding, of course."

Elyse didn't bother with eye contact as she climbed into the top bunk. Lying down she clasped her fingers behind her head, eyes shut as she waited for her roommate to take a hint. Her thoughts floated to her twin once again feeling the walls of her heart tense, offering little relief into her veins.

Clover resisted the urge to slump as she unpacked her belongings. _At least my previous roommates spoke to me._

* * *

Training in the first few weeks was tense as Elyse recognized how determined Lieutenant Riley was to maintain a clear divide between the two task forces. There had been an unspoken understanding in dividing the recreation room. The 141 would remain on the side closest to the kitchen. The Paragon would remain on the side closest to the exit. Riley stood in a darkened corner like the hawk she'd kept as a pet, watching—waiting for a moment to strike back at her. She'd heard him skewer Taylor, the newest medic on the team after he took a nasty hit during a sparring session. The medic barely stood at his sternum and shook like a leaf until Elyse stepped in. She may have only been a Sergeant, but she cared very little for titles when they were being used to—in her own words— _cater to the needs of a spewing asshole._ Whether it be due to Riley's reputation, preserving their own careers, or enjoying a shit-show; the other members kept their distance and silence. Lieutenant Blaire Evans was an exception. Before Elyse defended Clover, she'd been ready to step in herself. Her dark brown undercut hair parted over her face, as she shared disdain for not just Riley but for the 141 in general.

"Bunch of over-privileged wankers." She hissed before tossing back another shot of whiskey. "Where'd you get this?"

"Taylor." Elyse muttered reaching for the bottle. "As thanks."

"A woman of few words, eh? I can respect that."

Elyse smirked as she poured her drink. Catching a glimpse of their very nervous medic making her way to the table, she and Blaire offered polite nods.

"Do you mind if I sit with you guys?" Clover tugged at the sleeve at her wrist.

"So long as you don't consider us one of _them,_ I don't see why not." Blair finished her shot. "Cheers by the way."

Clover sat down uneasily, trying to avoid the stares in her direction. "Cheers." The redhead grimaced at the taste of the liquor, missing the chuckles from Elyse and Blaire.

"Drink often?" Blaire watched with a gleam of amusement in her grey eyes.

"Not really." The medic replied sheepishly as she set down her glass.

Elyse smirked before enjoying another sip of her drink. Scanning the room while the other two chatted, she noted that the base itself felt much larger than it actually was. In truth, everything was simply spread out.

"So what made you join?"

Elyse passed a glance in Blaire's direction. "Fulfilling a promise." She could practically hear Blaire's eyebrow raise. "You?"

"Family tradition. Everyone serves."

"Admirable." Her eyes looked past the Lieutenant as Meat and Royce approached.

"Heard you talked shit to our Lieutenant. Not sure if you noticed, but there's a chain of command here." Meat huffed, arms crossed over his chest, his face full of indignation.

Elyse sharpened her glare. "And?"

"And you need to respect it. You may have been hot shit before, what with being an all-women's team, but here you're _nothing_."

Elyse failed to suppress her flinch as Meat's words echoed in the well of her memories. She couldn't— _wouldn't_ go back there. Physically or emotionally.

"And if I don't?" Elyse felt her blood boil as she rose from her chair. She hated how easily wound up she could be and yet, she'd never really made an effort to prevent it from happening.

Meat kept just enough of a gap to show he hadn't touched her _yet._ He had a good few inches over her as she barely stood at his clavicle. He squared his shoulders, leering down at her. "You warm up quickly, I like that in a woman."

Disgust filled her eyes as she rounded her fists. The room grew quiet as she felt the eyes of others cast her direction. Silent enough to hear a pin drop, time slowed as Elyse felt the urge to rip that smirk from his face.

The sound of connecting flesh brought Mactavish into the room. Seeing Meat's body flip head first onto the ground sent him into a near frenzy. He was just inches from grabbing Elyse by her collar whenever she felt a strong hand on his fist.

"They're settling things." Her tone was unnervingly tranquil, her grey eyes expression unfazed by his rising anger.

"Not on my watch." He spat before attempting to side step her. She blocked him, moving her free hand to his chest.

"Sergeant Lèvesque, stand down."

As if someone had flicked a switch, Elyse released her vice grip from Meat's arm letting it fall onto the floor with a crumble. Meat's darkened eyes heated with humiliation as he felt Royce lift him, quietly ushering him out of the room's only exit.

Mactavish never broke his stare, a rare fire in his cobalt blue eyes. How he'd wish they would burn into Blaire's icy greys, evoking some sort— _any sort_ of reaction. Blaire waited for Meat and Royce's footsteps to quiet before giving an almost pleased glance at the sergeant. "Head back to quarters, Lèvesque. You've done enough tonight."

Elyse's impassive stare seeped into the atmosphere lowering the temperature of the room. A natural habit she'd inherited from her mother. She ignored the stares ranging from bewilderment to vexation as she exited. The visage of her mother and godfather appeared in her mind, as she felt a renewed urgency to remain focused. She scolded herself internally, rounding her fists. _Too many of these confrontations and I won't be able to accomplish what I came here for._

* * *

Clover had scuttled into the room at some point, glasses balanced on top of each other in one hand half full of whiskey in the other. Seeing Elyse's still form, she quietly tucked away her celebratory trinkets before cautiously stripping out of her uniform. Elyse's back faced her giving some semblance of privacy as the skittish 24-year-old slid into some brightly colored printed pajama pants. Slipping into a fitted tank top, she let down her hair before reclining against her pillows. Switching on the small book light next to her, she cracked open one of her medical text books. She'd been the youngest graduate in her class, an accomplishment all its own until she enlisted with the Royal Army Medical Corps. Her height, gender, and age did little to gain confidence in her patients. As a result, she took on as many responsibilities possible, refusing to relinquish herself despite the obstacles with pushy patients, cynical corpsmen, and arrogant doctors. Serving as a Nurse Practitioner would have its drawbacks, but she felt called to a position that was desperately needed but often overlooked.

The lines had begun to blur as she rubbed her eyes. Stifling a yawn, she had just closed her eyes whenever a voice caused her tense.

"You'll burn yourself out if you don't pace yourself."

Lifting her head, a mix of excitement and confusion filled her amber brown eyes.

"How did you know-"

"My mum's a nurse. Her mum was a nurse. And her mum before her."

"That's cool. So then, why not become a medic, if you don't mind my asking." Clover chided herself for being a little too eager to have the first real conversation with her roommate since they arrived.

"Requires too much empathy."

The room plunged into an uncomfortable silence as Clover felt stifled by the numerous inquiries threatening to burst from her lungs. It was as if Elyse sensed this as she shuffled above Clover. Sitting up she attempted to crack her stiff neck. Meat had been able to land only a hand on her, but his grip on the nape of her neck causing her to be unable to properly recline her head.

"Would you have a look at something for me?" Clover could hear Elyse's voice soften as her shadow leaned over the ledge on the top bunk.

"Certainly."

Elyse slid from her bunk to the ground before rounding the corner.

"Please." The medic motioned with her hand, folding up her textbook. Swiping her shoulder length hair from the back of her neck, Clover frowned at the bruise forming. "Tell me where it hurts." She gently pressed her fingers along the tender areas of Elyse's back stopping whenever she flinched.

"Nothing feels broken. Some swelling that may lead to some more bruising. You should ice it for the next couple days."

"Thanks." Elyse flashed a smile so faint, Clover wasn't certain she'd _actually_ seen it.

"No, I should be thanking you. For what you did what that Lieutenant and for tonight."

Elyse shrugged. "We're a team. When someone comes after one of us, they'll need to be ready for _all_ of us."

Clover nodded, a smile tugged at her lips.

"Goodnight, Taylor. Thanks again." Elyse climbed back into the top bunk carefully lying on her neck.

"Anytime. And goodnight." Flicking off her book light, Clover released a contented sigh.

* * *

Author's Note: There's the first chapter. Please let me know what you think, if you feel so inclined.


	2. Expectations

Author's Notes: Onward to the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC's. All other characters are under the property of their respective owners.

* * *

"Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man."

 _A globe made entirely of crystal reflected in the tall pane glass window as she watched Ciel already waiting patiently, book in one hand; his fingers tracing the Its iridescent light illuminating the countries._

" _Has Elyse written back yet?"_

 _An aching intrusion settled upon Esmèrie's heart as her eyes drifted towards the United Kingdom where her twin resided. It was better this way. If keeping Elyse from the insanity that overran their family's estate meant her dealing with bit of loneliness, then so be it. She always was more outgoing. Unsatisfied with reading about history, she'd felt compelled to be a part of it, to challenge the status quo of what they'd been taught. She 'd been so much like their mother in that way. Always striving to disrupt patriarchal obstacles no matter the cost. It's been a year now since she left to enlist. How many countries had she been to now? What adventures had her eyes seen? And what strengths had her heart learned?_

" _Not yet. But she will." She flashed a smile before joining him beneath the globe. Opening the book, she couldn't resist tickling his nose with the feather they used as a bookmark. His giggles brought about joy in her heart as she leaned down to kiss him. "Alright, now where were we?"_

" _Sebastian and Ciel just escaped the angel of death." He nodded empathically as they opened the book about a boy and his demonic butler. She cleared her throat before starting, putting on her so-called narrator voice as he reclined, his head resting in her lap._

 _It'd been less than half an hour when his sweet snores reached her ear. Carefully closing the book, she gently cradled him, lingering a moment to brush some of his soft, black strands from his smudged glasses. A surge of emotions flooded through her as she struggled to hold back the tears. The thought of holding him like this for the last time was unbearable._

 _The heaviest of drops trailed off her face and dotted his cheek as he stirred. His round, blue eyes fluttered open. She thumbed away the droplets and swallowed. "What's wrong?" His voice was still laden with sleep as she gave an unconvincing smile and she realized that even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to protect him with a lie. Not this time._

" _I'm going to be away for awhile. Think of it as an adventure." She forced a dry laugh as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand._

" _Can I come with?"_

 _Esmèrie shook her head, his disappointment piercing her heart._

" _How long will you be gone?" His words were weighed down by concern._

" _I'm not sure. But I promise to tell you about every step of the journey." Relief surged through her as his lips curved into a smile._

 _He yawned. "And then we'll finish our song?"_

 _She nodded. "And then we'll finish our song."_

 _He rose slowly, stretching before bidding her goodnight. She managed to keep it together long enough for him to reach his bedroom door before crumbling. The weight of her reality arrived in full force as she began to shake. Her nails digging into the wood floor, her shoulders heaving. Her breathing became ragged, her eyes screwed shut, her heart felt like it would explode. She knew what it was. Pure unmitigated panic as the reality sunk in that she'd just been offered in exchange for the one thing she despised most in this world._

 _Her toffee colored waves hid her face as she felt her tears singe her cheeks. Choking back a sob, Esmèrie tucked short curls behind her ear, as she sat up. Her fingers trailed over the United Kingdom as she bit her lip. "What I'd give to be with you, Elyse."_

 _Her fingers caught on a protruding piece of crystal as a droplet of blood escaped from her index finger. Sucking the on the wound, her hazel eyes snapped to the offending piece only to notice an opening along the equator. Slipping her fingers along the edge, she paused at the feel of a pulley. Tugging it at an angle, she noticed the globe split into two parts. Sliding her hand inside, she felt the smoothness of leather beneath her fingers. Removing her hand had been the simplest aspect to all of this as she held the binder of a small, dark green ledger. Curious as to its contents, she flipped through the pages to see random numbers and names. Coordinates and contacts? The handwriting had been her Maman's except for a few scribbled notes. Why did she leave this here? Her mother was meticulous to a fault, especially when traveling. Something this detailed wouldn't have slipped through her mind. Her hands began to shake as she felt another wave of panic surge through her veins. She forced her breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Curling her fingers around the booklet, she swallowed her fear, her mind drifting to Elyse. Her composure, her strength, her resilience. If she could just channel enough to get through this… The room grew warm around her as she felt sudden perseverance heat the blood in her veins. She could find a way to keep her family alive and not be turned into chattel._

 _Flipping through the pages, Esmèrie thumbed a page with the Black Dahlia emblem. Thinking carefully as to where she'd seen that logo before, she quickly rose from the floor before leaving the library._

 _She'd been no stranger to her grandfather's wing as she soundlessly made her way to his office. Closing the door, she logged into his computer. Searching through his files, she clicked on the Black Dahlia folder. Password protected, she frowned at the irritating beeping reminding her that access wasn't granted._

 _Biting her lower lip, she ran a mental tally of all the passwords the family used. Birthdays, anniversaries, etc. Closing her eyes, she typed in one final guess, relieved to see that it opened the file._

 _The stored information was slim considering the extra level of protection. Black Dahlia was a consultant organization that comprised of mercenaries and other unscrupulous works. Rereading the notes in the ledger, Esmèrie swallowed as she thumbed over scribbled digits and the name Hawke. Her heart raced inexplicably as she reached for her phone. She'd need a plan. Help to disappear. And the money to do so. Retrieving the financial records, she worried her lip before clicking the transfer button. She didn't doubt the cost of hiring a mercenary group as the numbers in her family's account dwindled before her eyes._

 _Days would pass as she grew more nauseous about her decision. She and Hawke had met in the city, in the lobby of one of the finest hotels in France. He'd sensed her nervousness and reached out to touch her knee. "We wouldn't want to draw attention, now would we?" His smile unnerved her as the warning signs sounded off. "There's no need to fret, my dear." Another smile that sent ice to her veins. "I'll make sure you're taken care of…"_

Her vision blurred, hazel eyes brightened by the morning sun as Esmèrie sat up on the creaky mattress. Discouragement settled into her heart far better than she had settled into the room which contained little to no familiarity whatsoever. An old vanity with chipped polish rested in the corner at the foot of her bed. Her toffee hair had grown longer draping down her back as she wiped her eyes. A knock at her window caused her to jolt as she snapped her neck in the direction of a young girl with bright brown eyes and cropped hair. Prisha, as she'd come to be known, came for fresh water carrying the large ceramic jug on her head back home.

Opening the window, Esmèrie extended a hand to bring the little girl inside. "Good morning, miss Esmèrie!" She beamed as she bounced on the bed, giggling at its squeak.

"Good morning, Prisha. How are you?"

"I am good. Can I have some water for my family?"

"Of course."

"Thanks!" Flashing a toothy grin, she bounded for the bathroom with her empty jug at her side. Their frequent meetings were supposed to be secret though Esmèrie doubted how little the Black Dahlia agents missed. Dressing in her tunic and slipping on her sandals, Esmèrie finished shoving her latest project into a bag.

Prisha struggled to carry the ceramic jug on her head as Esmèrie lunged forward to catch it as it nearly fell. "Why don't I help you today?" Her offer wasn't usually denied as Esmèrie smiled, lifting the jug to her own head. A flash of fear filled the Prisha's eyes as she shook her head. "N-no. T-thank you, miss Esmèrie." Her voice failed her as she swallowed.

Furrowing her brow, Esmèrie lowered herself to the ground. Prisha struggled to make eye contact as she gulped.

"Why not, chèrie?"

Prisha locked her jaw and looked down at her feet. "I cannot say, miss Esmèrie."

"Sweet girl. Haven't we always kept each other's secrets?"

Prisha worried her lip as tears pricked at her eyes. "Because I don't want you to face the ghost man."

"Ghost man?"

She nodded. "My papa said there's a man looking for you. They call him the ghost man."

Esmèrie smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind the girl's hair. "You don't need to worry about me, chèrie. My friends will take care of me."

"You mean like mister Kill-ith-shian?"

Esmèrie chuckled. "Yes. And that is a much better way to say his name."

The two giggled before Esmèrie's door swung open. Cillian stood in his usual suited attire as the Esmèrie stood protectively in front of Prisha.

"She's not supposed to be here." Cillian glowered as Prisha hid behind Esmèrie.

"She came here for water. I'm helping her take some back to her village."

"No, you're not. We received word that someone may have found your location."

Esmèrie rounded her fists. "So send someone with me to deliver water. Isn't that what you're here for?"

Cillian sharpened his glare as Esmèrie felt Prisha's legs shake behind her own. "This has to be the last time you do this. Understood?"

Esmèrie nodded before lifting the ceramic jug with one hand, reaching for Prisha's hand with the other. She felt the girl clutch at her wrist as they passed Cillian.

The trek to the village wasn't far but with almost ten gallons of water on her head, and a child at her side, Esmèrie realized how necessary the invention was in her bag. Cillian's attempts to boor a hole through her back didn't help either.

They found some refuge from the heat by the ocean as the small village consisted of fishermen, pregnant moms feeding their babies, and children chasing one another. Prisha's age got the best of her as she joined her friends in their latest game. Esmèrie glimpsed Cillian reaching for his sidearm as an older woman cautiously approached. "Cillian, it's fine. This likely belongs to her."

Esmèrie extended her arms as the woman reached out for the water jug. They exchanged forced smiles as an awkwardness set in. The woman had just turned whenever Esmèrie tried to breach the language barrier. "Excuse me," She began in Malayalam. "Could I speak to…village elder?" The woman looked puzzled before pointing in a vague direction. Thanking the woman, Esmèrie looked towards an unused path to follow into the alcove filled with contaminated water. An old man with a long white beard was tossing poisoned fish back into the sea. He looked as if he were expecting her. "You are…the Inventor?"

She nodded. "I am."

The exchange was awkward but brief as Esmèrie chided herself for allowing her speaking ability to dwindle in her seclusion. After the elder relinquished a bit of his distrust, he and Esmèrie set off to place the netting at the edge of the cove. The waves were calmer here, making the weighted buoy drift little from its original position. The netting hit the water with a slap, the buoy instantly ringing. The resonating hum reaching the ears of the curious locals. This sliver of accomplishment was enough to restore a bit of hope in her spirit. Esmèrie could practically hear Cillian's patience thin as he glared from the beach, a knot forming in her stomach as she felt the boat return to shore. He was planning something. Meaning she'd have to find a new avenue of escape much sooner than she'd expected to…

* * *

The rippling sound of a punching bag clinging to its metal clasp echoed throughout the empty gym. Infuriated fists pummeling the invisible targets Mactavish had been ordered to cooperate with. In most of his career, his civility had eased more tensions than he could count. And while there were exceptions, coming mostly from his second in command, he'd still prided himself on never losing his cool. _Not like that sperm donor._ Striking the bright red bag, Mactavish cursed under his breath at the image of the man who beat and abandoned his wife and son. He'd worked odd jobs in high school before enlisting at 17. The money he made would cover the bills and then some. However, the day he told his mother, she didn't scream like he expected. Her eyes simply fell, her hand withdrawn from his for the first time and she slowly began to fade from his life. Feeling the cross at his neck burn into his skin he threw one final punch before yielding to his fatigue. The silver cross dangled from his shirt as he brought it to his lips. The gentlest of kisses he'd hope his mother could— _would_ accept from him.

Overlooking his shoulder, he glared at Riley casually strolling to the gym. He'd just lifted a few weights, before shooting a glance towards his captain. "You got a problem there, _sir?_ "

"Aye. And it has to do with you startin' shit where it doesn't need to be started."

Riley didn't respond as he put in his headphones, disregarding Mactavish's presence had been a habit he'd all too quickly adopted since joining the 141.

"I'm talking to you." His accent thickened as Mactavish whipped out one of the earbuds earning him a glare from Riley. "I don't need you causing any more trouble amongst the divisions."

"You're on my case about what—the medic? Where the hell is this fury for the Sergeant who slammed one of our own face first into the ground?!"

"That's been handled."

"By the Lieutenant who likely instigated it. You're either gettin' too old for this or you're becomin' soft."

Mactavish's knuckles cracked as he gripped Riley by the collar. "You're want to talk about chain of command whenever it suits you but when someone else's ass is on the line, you're cavalier? And here I thought you gave a shit about your brothers in arms."

"Fuck off with that brothers in arms shit. You know damn well, I'd take a bullet for you and any other number of these ass hats. Don't question my loyalty now, Soap."

" _Captain_. I bloody well earned the title."

"Fine, _Captain._ You want me to play nice with the other kids, I'll play nice. But don't expect me to be fuckin' sweet about it."

* * *

Elyse rubbed at the knot in her stomach while waiting for the 141 to clear the shooting range. They'd intentionally taken an extra half hour to shoot as a part of their _house rules_. She and the other members were to wait outside in the blistering heat until they'd finished.

The knot in her stomach tightened as Elyse smoothed her shirt as Archer approached. Whenever Mactavish or Riley weren't around, group leadership seemed to fall on Archer's shoulders as he led the rest of the squad out of the range. Elyse kept her gaze forward ignoring the scowls from Royce and Scarecrow as they stood on either side of Meat. As soon as they'd left, she'd waited for Evans to lead their group inside.

Shooting had always been an outlet for Elyse as she aimed down her sights before pulling the trigger. A spark gleamed in her eye as a smirk tugged at her plump lips.

"Nice shot, Levèsque. Perhaps you could show our medic a few tips." Elyse recognized an order no matter how subtle as she moved over to see Clover struggling to hold a gun nearly the size of her. Her earmuffs blocked out her voice as Elyse watched her jump after being tapped.

"I'm here to help you shoot." Elyse watched her flush.

"Sorry, never really got the hang of _ending_ lives." Worried she'd offended Elyse, she bit at her lower lip.

The brunette responded with an apathetic shrug. "That's why you're a medic."

Relief surged through Clover's veins as she resumed her stance, pointing the gun down range. She felt Elyse's foot push under one heel while her arms steadied the medic's. "Now try."

Hitting the target with surprising accuracy, Clover beamed. "Wow!"

"Yep." Elyse chuckled, allowing the briefest smile to grace her features, whenever she saw Clover's glance in her direction.

"You have a really nice smile, you know that?"

"Tell anyone that and I'll make you out to be a liar." Her voice was stern as a bit mischief filled her hazel eyes. Clover released a nervous chuckle before resuming her shooting.

* * *

Gary Anderson considered himself fortunate. While the title of FNG was irritating, it paled in comparison to the treatments the Paragon members experienced. He would at least _have_ to be accepted, trusted, respected. He watched Elyse enter the rec room as vengeful looks swarmed her. Meat's physical injuries had healed, though he still wandered with limping pride. In an attempt to not seem obvious, he took a drink of his water bottle. In the corner of his eye, he'd seen Royce festering in the corner, waiting for Elyse to prop herself against the wall before he stalked over to her.

"You gonna stand there and fester all day or actually apologize for what you did?" She didn't need to make eye contact to know that the arrogant voice standing beside her belonged to Royce. When she didn't respond, he leaned his head just inches from her ear. "You lose your gall? Can't even look me in the eye?"

Stultified hazel eyes locked with resentful brown as both parties equally unyielding. "Alright, that's enough mate."

"This doesn't concern you, Anderson. Not like she's one of our anyway."

"She is if Shepherd brought her here."

A dark chuckle fell from Royce's mouth. "Aren't _you_ a bit of a boy scout?"

"We cannot continue this shit."

"Says who?" Royce stepped forward, standing over Anderson. "Who the fuck left you in charge?"

Anderson rounded his fists, squaring his shoulders. Royce may have had more muscle on Anderson, but anyone who sparred with the youngest member of the SAS knew the kid had speed and agility on his side.

"Knock it off you two." Archer's voice rose from a dark corner. A puff of smoke reaching them before he did. "I'm in no mood to drag any one of you towards the infirmary."

Gary could feel her sharpened hazel eyes shoot to him as he waited for Royce to yield. He could practically hear her sizing him up. The sandy blond was taller than her, his cognac brown eyes locked with her fierce hazel. "I didn't need you to do that."

He shrugged. "Meat and Royce inflate their egos too much. It's nice to remind them they are no better than the rest of us." His eyes still held their glimmer of humanity, his smile still carried hope. "We were never properly introduced. Name's Gary but most people call me Roach." He extended his hand as Elyse glanced down at it before returning to his face.

"Levèsque, or Eclipse in the field." She shook his hand after a moment of watching making him wonder if she expected him to squirm under her gaze.

"Nice. Wanna come out for a smoke?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

They'd barely sat down when Meat caught their attention. "You're wanted by the Captain." His terse words held a glint of satisfaction as he smirked watching her narrow her eyes before standing to leave the rec room.

It had been her understanding that part of the 141 and half the Paragon division had gone on mission. OPSEC prohibited any vital details but Shepherd seemed pacified with the decision. The man's twisted mustache curled upwards ever so slightly as he sauntered through base that morning.

The base itself wasn't extensive but due to poor structuring it was spaced unevenly. The male quarters were older but larger providing nearly everyone with their own sleeping quarters and washrooms. The CO's offices were tucked into an L-shaped hall. Mactavish's office in the end corner. The door ajar just enough to see a large shadow split into two as hushed voices reached her ear.

"Now we just need to make sure you don't die out there." The gravelly voice sent chills down her spine. Without thinking about protocol, she entered. For the first time since she enlisted she felt her eyes light up, her breathing hitched, mouth parted as her voice caught in her throat.

"Parrain…"

* * *

Author's Note: Bit of a cliffhanger for you all! Please let me know what you think. How do the characters (both canon and OC) sound?


	3. Collateral

Author's Note: Certain sections of this chapter have been omitted due to the restrictive nature of this site. If you would like the unedited version, please message me or find me on Tumblr or Archive of Our Own. Also, I made some minor changes to Dinesh and Esmerie's conversation.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC's.

Warnings: Violence, Sexual Assault, Swearing

* * *

"He who has a why to live can bear almost any how."

"Parrain…" A small smile tugged at Mactavish's lips as Elyse's reaction reflected his own at the Gulag. She swallowed, eyes softening before breaking the stare she'd shared with the shaggy haired man dressed in rags.

"It's so good to see you, Elyse." Price's gruff voice held affection that Mactavish was certain he'd never heard from his mentor. Sentiment spread across his features. His eyes lighting up and a rare smile shrouded by unkempt facial hair.

"Yeah," She cleared her throat. "You too."

There was a reluctance to embrace, as the two recognized that a protocol should have been followed at the very least, while Mactavish was present. "Well, since you know each other, we can skip introductions and get to reason why you're here, Levèsque."

A knock interrupted him as the three looked over their shoulders at General Shepherd. "Ah, good. You're all here."

Elyse and Price straightened up, standing with an oddly similar gait as Mactavish internally noted the similar sternness in their features. Mactavish stood on the other side of Price as they waited for Shepherd to sit.

"The world is in pretty bad shape at the moment. The connection between the massacre at Zakhaev International and the recent attacks on the States have stretched us pretty thin."

Elyse nodded. "The connection sir?"

"A man named Makarov. He's not bound to a country or a set of ideals. He trades blood for money. I understand given your family history you understand the concept well."

The slightest flinch spread across Elyse and Price as the General didn't bother to pass more than a nod to them. "We have reason to believe that your sister may be involved. Have you heard from her at all? Know where she's located?"

"No, sir." She grew rigid as the twisting in her stomach returned with a vengeance.

"Your Grandfather has worked with all militaries across the globe in one way or another. Arms dealing, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

Shepherd sighed before tossing the open file across the desk for the three to see. In it was a photo of Esmèrie mid-step in a group of men. Their grandfather followed by his sons. "That photo was taken over a year ago. My intel states that's when she became acquainted with Makarov. Not long after that, she disappeared. Gone without a trace."

Elyse could feel her heart race, eyes sharpening, fully aware of what was to come. "Any information you have would be beneficial to us." Shepherd leaned his head towards her. "So, I'll ask you again. Do you have any intel regarding your sister's whereabouts?"

Elyse allowed her eyes to grow distant, blinking away any sign of emotion behind them. "No, sir."

Shepherd sighed impatiently, his displeasure evident. His eyes scanned her for any sign of falsehood. She was an excellent soldier. One of the brightest in her regiment. She incisiveness had proved helpful during many of her past missions. He had no reason to doubt her, just as he had no reason to believe her.

"You're dismissed, soldier."

"Thank you, sir." Her response was equally curt as it was unflinching under his gaze. As she turned, he ordered Mactavish to close the door behind her. Price narrowed his eyes at the General who resumed looking over the files on his desk. Mactavish at his side, Price cleared his throat. "Sir?"

"Hm? What is it, Price?"

"Levèsque has been properly vetted-"

"Vetting isn't always effective, Price. You know that." Shepherd's tone sharpened as he thumbed over Esmèrie's photo."

"Yes, sir. But I-"

"Think there must be some sort of mistake? I don't think so. I need you to assemble a team to go out and find her. Extract any and all intel you can." Content with his order, Shepherd stood as the two saluted him. "And Price, good to have you back."

Price counted the moments until the General's footsteps faded from the closed door.

"Load of bollocks, all of it." He muttered as he locked eyes with Mactavish. "I've known those two since the moment they were born. They wouldn't get caught up in this."

Nodding, Mactavish knew his mentor to be a man of few words. However, when he did say something it was almost certainly valuable.

"Shepherd's wrong on this one." Glancing down at the open file of his other god-child, Price felt his heart skip. The close-up of Esmèrie had her eyes focused ahead but upon closer glance, she looked more anguished in each of the clipped photos. His eyes narrowed at the final photo of her standing beside Makarov, her attention drawn towards her grand-father while her uncle Sabien glared at her. "We'll begin with Sabien. He's the brightest one of children Aristide has."

"The girl may have been gone for about a year but the whereabouts of the others are completely unknown. Know of anyone who could find them?"

A wicked grin spread across Price's features. "Matter a fact, I do."

* * *

Night had fallen as Esmèrie grew restless. Her shower did little to settle her nerves as she paced her room. Her navy-blue stockings were beginning to thin under her feet from her pacing. She wrung her hands, biting at the skin on her lower lip. She'd been too lost in thought, running through a mental tally of ideas for her next project, to notice the door to her room shut. Her back was turned, fingers running through her hair as she worried her lip. The room's atmosphere changed as a shadow grew, enshrouding her small figure. Nervous hazels blinked, her concentration disrupted as she glimpsed in the vanity mirror at her reflection. Thinking her tired mind was playing tricks, she slowly turned around to meet Cillian's gaze. He muffled her scream with his hand while pressing her waist against his. She squirmed at first, as his grip grew tighter over her mouth. "We need to discuss those prototypes you've been sharing." Her eyes widened in fear. _He knew._ She'd been so careful in hiding her online presence. Disguising her searches under pseudonyms that couldn't be traced back to her. And yet, one look in his eyes told her all she needed to 'd been playing with her the _entire_ time.

Her muffled voice reverberated against his hand as he lifted his palm just enough for her to speak. "What do you want?"

"I think that's obvious." His voice dropped an octave as she pushed against him, his grip only intensifying.

She tried to hide her pain by averting her gaze, but it did little until she found her voice. "I've already sent the payment for you and your men."

"That you have. Though, these payments are arriving later than we agreed on."

Esmèrie swallowed. _So that was it._ She'd been effectively using the money meant for the agreement her family made with that mad-man but after checking the finances, she'd realized her family's wealth was vanishing much faster than she'd anticipated.

"So long as the payments are still arriving, what does it matter if they are a little late?" She dared to look into his opaque eyes without faltering. A twisting in her stomach encouraged her to push against his chest as she wriggled enough to turn herself sideways, his hand painfully attached to her hip. "Please, let go."

"If I let you go, what will I get in return?" His voice set an unbearable chill in her bones as she glanced towards the window. Cillian clicked his tongue. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Imagine what would happen to little Prisha if you ran off again?"

A burst of fury coursed through her veins as she gathered the strength to slap him. Taking by surprise, he took a step back, hand on his cheek where an angry hand print was forming. "You're just filled with surprises, aren't you?"

"Leave her out of this. She has nothing to do with why we're here!"

"You're right. _You're_ the reason we're here. Stuck in this sweltering shit-hole. And honestly, my men and I have shown a great deal more effort than what you've provided. Which is why," In one step he was just inches from her face, his grip worse than before as he placed his hand around her face. Tears pricked at terrified hazels as Esmèrie struggled. "S-stop."

"Or what? Where will you go without protection, contacts, _fucking_ transport?" She practically tasted the venom in his throat as she struggled to move her lips from his. Her toffee brown locks were trapped between them as he sniffed her hair. "Always so sweet. Like apricots and peaches. Wonder where else you're as sweet as fruit."

Her hazel eyes filled with alarm as she felt her body freeze. He'd pushed her against her squeaky mattress as she pushed herself against the window. The moon shown a venomous grin on his features as Esmèrie felt panic sink in and, yet she couldn't move. Cillian lied on the bed, pulling her light frame on top of his as he gripped at her waist. A gasp fell from her mouth as her body grew rigid as he pulled her closer to him. "You're making this more difficult than it needs to be." He whispered as she felt her cry catch in her throat.

"Stop, _please._ " Her eyes darkened from him as she curled her back, hiding her face behind her fallen curls.

She heard him sigh impatiently. "Fine. Just remember, while _I'm_ no rapist, I can't speak for all my men. Particularly when they aren't paid accordingly." Shoving her against her window with a smack, she tucked in her bleeding arm before hunching over. She didn't know how long she'd been like that, only recalling the faint sound of her door closing before her world grew darker. When she sat up she gazed out her window. She envied the moon as it tucked itself behind wispy clouds. _Hiding in the shadows…away from grasps of shame and guilt._ Tears singed her cheeks as her reality began to set in. Questions flooded her mind as she choked back sobs. She'd felt equal parts violated and conflicted about what had transpired on her bed. She could still see his shape in the creases of her thin blanket. She could feel his grips on her sides as the bruising would surely begin by morning. She felt the blood seep through her tunic as her arm felt colder. And above all, _she felt as if she were to blame for all of it._

* * *

Elyse lie on her bed, one arm tucked behind her head, the other absentmindedly tracing her tattoo. A Vesica Piscis on her left side, drawn by her twin. One of their many secrets, they had their tattoos done just before Elyse left to live with their godfather in the UK.

She could still feel Esmè's warmth on her shoulder, as they sat up together on the last morning before she left. Their mother in her every omniscient thinking, separated them knowing that it would be their downfall to stay together. She knew she'd be leaving to follow their Godfather, and that keeping them together would result in too easy of an opportunity for their uncles to get rid of her children. The plan had been so simple then. Elyse would go and live in England where their Godfather grew up where'd she enlist at seventeen. And Esmè would stay home, helping keep the litter safe while Maman was away.

The ache of loneliness blended with suffocating uncertainty filled her heart as her eyes were overwhelmed with tears. At that very moment, Clover entered the room. Wiping her face quickly, Elyse watched the exhausted medic crawl into bed with a sigh. "I'm pooped. What about you?"

"Much of the same." Her voice cracked as she swallowed.

"Elyse?" Clover sat up, raising her head. "You okay?"

"I'm-" Elyse cleared her throat. "I'm fine. Just a sore throat is all."

Clover nodded twisting her mouth. "Are you sure there's nothing else?"

Elyse sighed. "Just missing someone."

"Someone like a boyfriend…or…"

"No." Elyse forced a chuckle. "My sister."

"Older or younger?"

"Younger. What does she do?"

"She was- _is_ an inventor." Elyse pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Cool. Do you want to talk about it?"

"It?"

"The reason you're crying."

There was an intense pause as Elyse sharpened her gaze. "Not just yet."

Clover put her hands up in mock surrender. "Alright. Just let me know when you're ready." A gentle smile spread across her features as Elyse nodded.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

* * *

Price would have to be even more selective about who he involved on this mission. He knew there was often distrust among the regiment especially given the current circumstances. He'd need to surround himself with people he could trust to handle this properly.

"Where is Riley?" He asked, exhaling a puff of smoke.

"Out on a mission for Shepherd. Left the day after we found you."

Grimacing, Price nodded. "Who else is here?"

"Meat, Royce, Archer, Toad, and Roach are all available." Soap exhaled his own cloud of smoke as he watched Price in his peripherals.

A dark chuckle left the older Captain's lips. "You mean _willing_ to do what's necessary?"

"Aye."

"We'll take Roach. Have him ready to head out tonight."

Mactavish nodded, standing up to leave. "If you don't mind my asking, sir. What is their relationship to you?"

An amused chuckle fell from his mentor's lips. "Jealous, son?"

Mactavish shrugged a little too casually.

"They are my goddaughters. Their mother is who we're going to meet."

Mactavish turned, grateful to hide the jealous flush at his cheeks. "And Soap?"

"You're the only muppet I'd consider my own."

A swell of emotion in his throat, the younger Captain left Price to his thoughts. The old man smiled inhaling another drag of his cigar. His eyes closed as he imagined the visage of his goddaughter's mother. _It's been too long, Margaux._ The fruity aroma on his skin sent shivers down his spine. The feel of her voluptuous lips against his own. The way she whispered his name. He exhaled slowly, eyes opening, a distinct loneliness seeping into his soul. _Time's running out. We've got to find them, my pearl._

* * *

Small beads of the sun's rays warmed her body as Esmèrie thought of pearls on her way to her alcove. The thought of her mother brought a smile to her lips as she turned to look over her shoulder. She couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched lately. Shaking the thoughts from mind, she rounded the sharp ledge to find her underwater garden rings. She'd been inspired by the Italian scientists who created them, brandishing her own rendition, altering them into a biconic shape. More practical and efficient, she'd been able to double the amount of space providing more opportunity to sustain herself. She couldn't stop her smile from reaching her eyes as she tended to the growing herbs and plants. She'd long since embraced vegetarianism, limiting herself to the occasional egg when she needed it. Plucking her fruits and vegetables, she quickly swam back to her alcove. Stripping out of her wetsuit, she tossed it into the hamper before pressing a button to wash and dry the suit in an oddly shaped cubed. Another invention she'd tinkered with, it's original intention was so college students wouldn't have to use their money at laundromats. It was portable, environmentally friendly and required detergent easily made at home. Grabbing a pair of dark shorts and a matching bralette, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She'd lost more weight. Not wanting to focus on the health issues at hand, she walked to her sink.

Rinsing her vegetables and fruits in the sink, she set to work on preparing her lunch and afternoon tea.

Her laptop dinged as she overlooked her shoulder, licking away the shaved almonds at her fingers.

Sitting hurriedly, she opened the chat window to see her beloved cousin's message. Her keystrokes relaxed as she had her first real conversation with Ciel since leaving home.

 _E.L.: Are you ready for Christmas?_

 _C.L.: Yeah. We're going to be traveling this year._

 _E.L: Oh? Where?"_

 _C.L.: To some family friends near the Russian border. Papa said there's some business to be taken care of._

Fear froze her fingers for a moment before she slammed her fingers into the keyboard, frantically pressing the video chat button.

His whisper and shadowy face brought the color back to her cheeks as she steadied her breathing.

"Ciel, did he say who he'd be meeting with?" She tried to hide the worry in her voice.

"No. Just that we had to go as a family at Christmas. Why?"

Her silence was a mistake as her cousin panicked. "Why? Does this have to do with why you can't come home?"

"Who told you I can't come home?"

"Maman was talking to the aunties. She kept saying you were…uhm…what's the word…"

"Collateral?" The word barely escaped her throat as Esmè swallowed.

"Yeah. What's collateral?"

"Collateral is…" Her voice broke as she looked away from the screen. "Ciel that isn't something you should fret over. Did anyone say exactly where you're going?"

"No, just somewhere near Russia. Esmè? Are you okay?" Bags had sunken into his eyes as he struggled to keep his head up.

Her stomach knotted as she struggled to not double over with nausea. "I'm okay, Ciel." She gripped at her knees, forcing as much composure as possible. "I need you to do me a favor. Every day I want you to take a photo with all the kids. And each city you pass, I want you to take a photo of something memorable and unique to the area."

"You want to see my photography?"

"Yes! Please…" Her eagerness got the best of her as Ciel's tired azures lit up.

"Okay, I can do that."

"Please do."

"It's late." He yawned.

"Yes, get some sleep. I love you."

"I love you."

The chat ended as she closed her laptop with a shaky hand. Looking down at her well-manicured fingers, the cuticles free of pin holes, she heaved a heavy sigh. Ignoring the disgust and regret pooling in her stomach, she reached in the desk computer desk for a sewing needle while trying to convince myself that what she was about to do wasn't self-harm. Pressing the needle between her nailbed and cuticle, she inhaled sharply. The pain was instantaneous as her hand stopped trembling. Her eyes fluttered as endorphins flooded her body. Poking deeper into the skin, she stopped when blood began to stain the needle. Removing the object from her finger, she breathed, lifting her head to the ceiling. She tried to justify her actions. She wasn't a cutter or a burner. She didn't leave scars or welts. She just caused a little bit of blood to surface before stopping. It's not truly self-harm if there's no proof, right? Convincing all but her conscious that what she was doing was fine, she tucked the needle away before sucking on the blood threatening to slip from the wound.

Her finger stopped throbbing after a few moments, her trice of reprieve lasting no longer than a minute. The pain offered an escape in a moment's notice, taking her away from constant dread of her decision. It had been months since she'd arrived in India. The people were kind, the land was beautiful, and ocean cleansing-softening the edges of reality. However, the twisting in her gut continued as she realized that this was just one of many caveats to come. If her Uncle wasn't going to follow through with his side of the bargain, then staying here wouldn't be an option. She'd have to return and face her fate eventually. She gripped her wrist, her eyes sharpening on the green ledger hidden underneath her computer desk. Removing it carefully, she opened the pages, finding some solace in the few answers to her many questions. She'd figured out that the locations shared a commonality. They were frequented by a task force that had traveled from Azerbaijan, to Ukraine, to Afghanistan over the years. The booklet had expanded into a small portfolio case as her notes had grown too numerous to be contained between the thin little pages.

She'd deduced that this task force was compiled of special force members ranging from the Americas, to Europe and Australia. However, she'd yet to decipher the reason as to why they were in the ledger. Her fingers tapped on the encircled 141 in red ink.

The hissing from her teakettle caused her to jolt. She bounced her leg beneath her desk as she bit at the wound on her finger. As much as she wanted to remain under the sea, free from the gaze of Cillian, she'd need to return. Her face flushed painfully as she clutched the cross at her neck. She'd been gone nearly a year now. Vanished in a rainstorm. _It is a blessing that Ciel doesn't resent me._

Her nausea returned as her skin began to crawl. A flash of herself on top of Cillian made her tremble. She'd repressed the idea of assault as she didn't think it merited such an extreme definition. And yet, she couldn't stop his caveat from echoing in her mind. _Just remember, while I'm no rapist, I can't speak for all my men._

Thinking quickly, she pulled up the last chat she'd had with Dinesh. Messaging him would hold its risks now that she knew Cillian was likely monitoring her. But she'd need to find some way out of Kerala to return to Europe. If she could just make it to the nearest airport…

Her fingers rapidly struck the keyboard as she eagerly sent Dinesh a message. In seconds, he replied as her heart leaped.

 _Dinesh: Your timing couldn't be better! The Professor is impressed with your work. I hope you don't mind but I told him about your prototypes. He's interested and wants to collaborate._

 _Esmèrie froze. She knew she'd eventually have to reveal her identity but she didn't quite imagine it happening under her current circumstances._

 _The Inventor: Who is the Professor?_

 _Dinesh: The Professor is a scientist who has worked on nuclear radiation since Chernobyl. He says that he's not seen such progress before...You're kind of a big deal here at Apotheosis._

 _The Inventor: And Apotheosis is..._

 _Dinesh: The name of our lab. We're a small group but we really are eager to meet you._

 _Esmèrie worried her lip. While she felt honored to be apart of the scientific community, she'd been reserved about revealing herself. She could recall countless stories of women being discriminated against as scientists, engineers, inventors. And those that stayed often faced harassment, threats, or worse yet. Having their inventions claimed by someone else. Evaluating her options, she realized that while her fears were valid, they were no reason to isolate herself from the community that seemed to be welcoming of her._

 _The Inventor: Sure. Can we meet in Kavalom at the end of the week?_

 _Dinesh: Absolutely! See you then!_

A heaviness settled in her stomach as she felt fatigued by stress. Reaching her cabinet, she retrieved a bit of Prussian Blue. It had been effective in treating most of her symptoms. She'd heard about _TP508_ being used to treat radiation poisoning however, she doubted the likelihood of finding a doctor to administer it given her current location. Swallowing the capsules, she rounded her shoulders before returning to her salad. Pouring her shaved almonds over the colorful dish brought some joy to her eyes as she looked over to the large pane glass window to see something frightening.

In the distance a mask of a ghastly figure floated in the distance, the body attached to it unmoving. Instinct kicked in as Esmerie didn't bother with grabbing her wetsuit, instead she dove directly into the cold water. Swimming swiftly, she reached the unconscious body. Even in the water, she struggled to pull him back to the alcove, bubbles of oxygen spilling from her mouth. When she reached the stairs, she rested, his back against her lap. He wore sunglasses and a skull mask; his build was muscular no doubt due to the pack he'd held attached to his back.

Once inside, Esmèrie's legs wobbled before she dropped to the floor. She'd struggled to catch her breath, eyes closing as she felt dizzy. Remaining still she allowed the moment to pass whenever she realized the man's head awkwardly placed in her lap. Ignoring the rush of blood to her cheeks, she carefully set him down before rushing off to the bathroom.

Riley's amber eyes shot open, regaining consciousness in his fight or flight mode. He'd heard rustling in the dimly lit room. Scanning the room he eyed a crevice between the bathroom and washing cube. Pressing himself between them, he waited for the nearing footsteps.

She'd returned with a rolled towel in her hands whenever she froze. Her heart raced seeing only the empty puddle remaining on her floor. She hadn't heard anyone leave, as her eyes scanned her small alcove. Trembling she, slowly rounded the corner near her washer cube. Feeling strong hands against her mouth caused her to panic as she bit, scratched and shoved away from the person. The man towered over her, his piercing gaze etched into her. Time slowed for a moment as Esmèrie pressed herself against the table. Nervously gripping the salad fork, she watched his eyes dart from her hand to her face in bemusement.

Time resumed as he rushed for her. One hand pinning her wrist, the other slamming her onto the table, pressing his full weight on her neck.

Esmèrie felt her vision darken as she struggled to breathe. The excruciating sensation of losing oxygen caused her chest to painfully fall, her body going limp.

Riley released his hold on her neck, before checking for a pulse. Her heartrate was still rapid as propped her legs with the rest of her body. In seconds, she regained consciousness, her bright hazels panicked at the sight of him. She struggled to prop herself on her hands, leaning backwards.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." His voice hit an octave that caused goosebumps to pimple her skin as she watched him eye the remaining space of the table. She yelped falling backwards, landing on the floor with a restricted gasp for air.

"W-who are you? W-why are you here?"

She watched as he walked over, boots silent against the floor. "Who I am is of little importance." His husky voice was just above a whisper as Esmèrie shuddered. Her small frame was enshrouded by his shadow. He knelt to her level, as she felt his chilling gaze through his glasses. "What you should be more concerned with is telling me exactly who _you_ are."

* * *

Author's Note: Oooh. What's going to happen now that Ghost has found Esmerie? Review to find out!


	4. Trust

Hey guys! Sorry, for the delay. Life has been hectic. I hope to make it up to you with not just one but three new chapters. Please let me know what you think.

Warnings: Language, Violence, Dubious Consent

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC's.

* * *

"Convictions are more dangerous enemies of truth than lies." — Friedrich Nietzsche

If there was one thing Mactavish learned about Margaux Levèsque, it was how painfully meticulous she was. They'd jumped through more hoops and ladders than he imagined a contact having. From walking into a pool of water to prove they weren't wearing a wire, to responding with strange hand gestures, he remembered what Price had mentioned when Nikolai was dropping them off at their first location. _Margaux's mind is like a puzzle box._ _It is her most endearing trait as much as it is her most infuriating._

Finally, with their clothes drenched and patience thin, they arrived at a tiny apartment. Price had raised his hand to knock whenever the door opened. Cautiously entering he, Mactavish, and Anderson prepared themselves. A woman stood at the window, eyes focused on Nikolai's Pave low.

"Margaux." A small smile tugged at his whiskers as Price waited for her to turn. It had been years since they last saw each other and yet, she hadn't appeared to have aged a day. Her rich copper skin, her vibrant hazels, her toffee brown curls neatly braided. "It's been too long _,_ _ **mon trèsor**_ _._ " _(…my treasure.)_

"That it has." Anderson and Mactavish exchanged glances, not quite certain of the softness in their Captain's voice. Familiar hazels narrowed in their direction.

" _ **Vous êtes certain qu'on peut leur faire confiance?"**_ _(Are you sure they can be trusted?)_

She switched to French, eyeing the two-armed men suspiciously.

" _ **Avec ma vie même, Margaux."**_ _(With my life, Margaux.)_

Price saw that his words did little to soften her expression as he cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

"We need to talk about the girls."

* * *

Cillian tapped his pen with increasing irritation as he watched the front door from the dining room table. Esmèrie hadn't been found in 12 hours. She traveled light and could remain out of the house for days at a time making him question how someone with no training could do so while leaving no trace along the coast of southern India. His patience was wearing thin. He'd been too lenient with her. And she took advantage of his kindness. _Just like that bitch she calls a mother._ The door swung open as two armed men dragged a village elder. Cillian glowered at the man, ordering his chin to be lifted.

"Where is she?" Cillian hissed in Malayalam. "Where is she? I know she gave you the net."

The old man's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he sputtered. "S-She g-gave my p-people the net t-to save our water. I…have not seen her since."

Cillian nodded before glancing at the two-armed men. "Take him back to the village. It's time to signal Esmèrie home."

* * *

Ghost began to wonder how she wasn't cold or tired. Esmèrie kept her distance from him wadding in the bioluminescent waves. He extended a gloved hand towards her. She hesitated, her eyes shooting from his hand to his face. "I'm not gonna bite you." She could practically hear his smirk beneath his balaclava. A wave broke their stare just long enough for him to consider diving in for her. Esmèrie resurfaced with a gasp, her eyes carrying the same reluctance she'd shown for the last hour.

"Who sent you?" Her accent was more pronounced, striking a higher octave while she raised her voice above the crashing waves. "Was it…Cillian?"

He glowered as she flinched, inching herself away from him. That name had been highlighted in the briefing. The lithe Irishman who he'd yet to see interact with Esmèrie, holding some leverage on her family. "No, he didn't." His hand still extended, he watched her anxiously eye him.

Overlooking her shoulder, she knew the swim to her alcove would be precarious this late at night. The ocean's temperature had dropped increasingly as the sun faded making her trip even just a kilometer from the surface too risky.

"Come on now, dove. I'm sure you're freezin' out there." It was the gentlest he could make his voice sound and judging by Esmèrie's uncertain expression, he needed to practice. He sighed and was just about to pull his hand back whenever she lifted herself, slender arms holding her dripping body against the jagged edge. She had a clearer look at his balaclava, her eyes drifting to his olive colored long sleeved shirt with matching cargo pants and military grade leather boots. "If you take a picture it'll last longer, dove."

He chuckled at the flush across her cheeks. "No, it's not like that. I just…my _Parrain_ used to wear boots like those…" Her voice drifted off as she eyed his mask. "Are you…" Her eyes grew wide at the shadow behind him as Ghost caught a glimpse of someone holding an M9 to his head.

The atmosphere shifted as Esmèrie's eyes widened in fear. In seconds, Ghost gripped the gun, yanking the man's arm forward as he turned. He placed well aimed kicks to subdue him. Removing the M9 and firing. The shot rang out, an eerie silence swallowing the cove. Ghost turned to face Esmèrie, expecting her to scream or worse yet, launch herself back into the water. Instead, she glanced towards the dead Black Dahlia member at his feet. Slowly lifting her hand forward, he read the dread in her eyes. Gripping her hand and lifting her out of the water, his eyes drifted down her dripping wet suit. She flushed and averted her gaze, hand gripping her wrist. The irritation in his breathing was evident as he scanned the cove. Any number of Cillian's men could arrive to harm them. They'd need to act quickly. There was an off beaten path leading from the ledge to cove. He faintly detected a means to escape whenever the screeching of a car reached their ears.

"Find the girl. Shoot anyone that stops you."

* * *

Price and his team knew to expect trouble the moment they saw the estate filled to the brink with Makarov's men. Margaux seethed upon seeing her brother Sabien enter the house, cell phone attached to his ear.

" _Bâtard_!" ( _Bastard)_ She hissed.

"Margaux, what do you wanna do?" Price asked through his earpiece.

"We wait until nightfall then we'll land, swim across and go through the garden." Margaux's knuckles cracked as she rounded her fists.

Night couldn't come fast enough for the team as Margaux took some time away from camp to eye her family home. From this angle, its beauty was untainted. Her favorite season was approaching as she long awaited the ocean's crisp kiss to welcome her each morning. Visages of her daughters playing amongst the rocks came to mind. Their world was so pure and simple back then. An excellent education, good food, and lots of love were all that was necessary to keep them safe. Margaux had planned to take over the family business while also tending to her father in his ailing memory. She could finally slow down, tell Price the truth about-

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a crunching leaf as she withdrew her Desert Eagle, ready to shoot.

Anderson held up his hands, freezing in his tracks. "Didn't mean to disturb you, ma'am."

Margaux sighed and replaced her pistol in its holder. "You didn't. I apologize for that."

Anderson shrugged. "It's a tense time."

Margaux smiled. "Still, shooting you would have been like shooting one of my daughters. They are right around your age."

"Twins?" He asked as he ambled towards her side.

"Mhm. Born five minutes apart." She chuckled tilting her head, eyes closing. "I had them in a bar on the border of France and Belgium. Just 12 hours before, I called John in a panic. He was by my side throughout the entire birth. He brought me home and took care of the girls and I while dealing with the chaos that was my family."

She could practically hear Anderson's soft faced smile as she turned to him. "Why do I have this feeling you'd get on well with my Elyse?"

A crimson tinge lit up his cheeks, as he glanced down bashfully. "Funny you say that, because we just so happen to be mates." The fear of implying disrespect struck him as he stammered. "B-but I can assure you there's no funny business."

Margaux tilted her head knowingly. "Is that so? Well even if you did so happen to _dip the biscuit_ , as a French woman, I can appreciate knowing that my daughter has chosen so well."

Anderson blinked curiously at her flirty tone as she giggled. Allowing her innuendo to fill the space between him, she barely contained her laughter behind her hand.

"Do you mean… _oh…_ "If his face were any redder, he'd turn into a tomato. Anderson nodded, thanked her and awkwardly excused himself as she giggled just as Price appeared from the tall grass behind them.

"What are you up to my pearl?"

"Making certain to get a rise out of your exceptionally British men."

An amused glint in his eye, he wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing himself against her ass. "You mean like how you did when we met in Sierra Leone?" Suckling at her ear, he pressed her closer as she shivered.

"You mean when I threatened to take off your head with my legs?"

"Mhm. You're the only woman who I've ever allowed to smother me with her minge." He nibbled at her neck as she bit at her lower lip, hand slipping between the two of them, fingers near his protruding zipper.

"Mm…John, I need this."

"I know you do." His nibbles turned to kisses as he pulled her into a passionate kiss. She turned, one hand snaking upward to his hair, the other hand unzipping him before slipping her hand inside. Price shuddered at her touch. "Margaux," His voice turned husky as she gripped him, pulling away just enough to watch his reaction. His eyes closed, a heavy exhale escaping his lips, he hardened in her hand. "My pearl," He breathed, alarm overtaking any pleasure he felt. Cradling her wrist, his eyes fluttered open. "We can't. Not like this."

The disappointment in her eyes was present for a moment before she blinked it away. "You're right. We need to go."

* * *

The moon granted them favor, embracing them as Margaux led Price, Mactavish, and Anderson out of the water. They darted through the garden following the cobblestone walkway along the winding entrance into the hidden crawl space. It would lead them to her father's office as Margaux scanned the room, waving them up. "Watch the door." Price motioned to Anderson who nodded as he looked through the sheer room divider.

Margaux typed rapidly at the keyboard, opening file after file, searching for any trace of where Esmèrie could have gone.

"We've got company." Anderson whispered, lifting his M4A1.

Price and Mactavish readied their M4A1s as Anderson watched the shadow grow closer. They held their breath, the room silent as the shadow stopped mid-step in front of the room divider before turning its back.

" _Mon Dieu_!"( _My God!)_ Margaux's gasp startled the three as they shot their attention to her. "Non, non, non bèbe, non!" _(No, no, no baby, no!)_ She trembled, tears spilling from her eyes as she barely muffled a sob behind her palm. Price knelt to her side, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "Margaux my pearl, what is it?"

Drawing in a sharp breath, she swallowed her cry. "Esmèrie contacted Black Dahlia." Her lip quivered as she bit at her lower lip until she tasted blood.

Mactavish glimpsed his mentor's face seeing the color fade from his cheeks made the younger Captain question just what kind of trouble this _Esmèrie_ was in. His eyes looked grim.

"Contact 12 o'clock." Anderson whispered.

"Margaux, we have to get out of here."

She blinked away her tears, drawing in a short breath. "Not without my bastard brother."

She walked towards Anderson, scanning the guard standing with back turned to them.

"If we can get to the west wing, we can corner Sabien. Then it's just a matter of extracting information."

They made their entrance in the fog of a flashbang as the four shot their way up the grand staircase and into the west wing. Pressing themselves against separate walls, they waited for Margaux to toss another flashbang before storming the bedroom door. Inside, a stout looking man sat in front of the fireplace. His lackluster brown eyes didn't move from the picture in his hand. Margaux advanced cautiously, Desert Eagle pointed as the sound of gunfire from the hallway gave way to the crackling fireplace. She rounded his chair, pressing the gun to his temple. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't blow your brains out."

"Because you don't know where Esmèrie is, do you?" His lackluster brown eyes hazily rose to meet her fiery hazels.

"Where is she?" Margaux's voice hit a guttural low.

"The last wire transfer went to Kerala. That was over a week ago. " He nonchalantly swallowed another gulp of his whiskey.

"How'd she get there?"

Sabien smirked. "You don't know? She contacted that attack dog you lost control of."

Margaux pressed the barrel deeper into his temple. "Tell me brother, how do you sleep at night? Knowing that your children are safe in their beds at home with you rather than them being spread all over the planet?"

Shame creeped into his eyes as he looked away taking a sip of his brandy. "I slept well with that comfort. But my children are not here. They are in Russia," He couldn't contain the venom in his voice. "Serving as collateral in your child's place."

"Collateral?"

"Oui. Makarov has grown impatient. He won't wait much longer until…" His voice dropped off as the sound of gunshots reached their ears. Price rushed into the room, eyes ablaze at Sabien. "We have to go. The Russian have us outnumbered."

"Call Nikolai." Margaux watched Price nod before pressing his earpiece.

"Guess we'll have to catch up another time, sis."

A cruel grin etched into her features, heightening the fear in his heart as she tilted her head. "Why wait any longer brother? You're coming with us."

Sabien's eyes widened as he reached for the Glock on the table next to him. Margaux one step ahead pistol-whipped him. His unconscious body leaned forward as she whistled for Anderson and Mactavish to enter the room. Mactavish lifted the stout man over his head. The gleam of light from Nikolai's chopper drew their attention to the nearest window.

Margaux removed the photo in her brother's hand. Eyes softening as she saw Ciel resting in Esmèrie's lap, grins on their faces as her father played at the family piano. Folding the photo into her pocket, she stared at her brother's bleeding face. "Tell Nikolai we're bringing a plus one."

* * *

 _Dew dripped down the silvery strands as hazel eyes dilated, pulsating with fear. Sweat glistened on her forehead, her mouth parting, the words failing. She could hear the ominous scratching as something predatory approached her twin. She'd been unaware, blinded by naivety, of the danger approaching. The shadow of something crawling closer to her, as the webbing began to encircle her legs. Her splayed arms writhed as Elyse felt the Esmè's burning tears prick at her eyes. A distinct anger flowed through her veins as her gaze sharpened towards the disembodied voice against her naïve sister's ear. Threats of what was to come causing her sweet sister to tremble. Elyse's voice failed as she tried to scream. In the meanwhile, the shadow eclipsed her twin. Her wide set eyes fluttering closed as the venom from the web seeped into her flesh. The pain registered over her features as she released a cry that tore Elyse apart._

" _I'm sorry, Elyse. I'm so sorry."_

Elyse struck the punching bag in front of her. A loud smack emitted with every punch. She'd grown accustomed to the stares at her ever-growing athletic figure. She was shorter than expected, her curves more stubborn than she would have liked. The gym despite it's gossip about her taking enhancements, her sexuality, and her general distrust as a non-member of the 141; provided an air of release. As she rolled her neck before resuming her blows on the punching bag. The visage of her twin crying out made her blood boil. Every night for a week that dream came to her. She needed an outlet, somewhere she could hit something without consequence. The gym was quiet today, the 141 members sticking to their side of the gym. She'd just landed a reverse kick whenever a whistle reached her ear. Shooting a glare towards the entry to the gym, she watched as Gary strode towards her. "You looking for a sparring partner?"

Elyse lifted her brows in surprise. "You're back?"

Gary chuckled. "Yep. Just got back this morning. So, what do you say?"

Elyse thought a moment. They were of similar builds. He wasn't quite as tall as the other SAS members, as she witnessed just how well he'd learned to use his lean build to his advantage. "Let's do this."

Their jabs cut through the air as the two dodged and blocked each other's strikes. Elyse had just delivered of a round of kicks to Gary's mid-section, whenever he grabbed her leg and swung her towards the floor. Pressing her weight on to her hands, she backflipped before charging him. He anticipated her moves, knowing quite well how much more comfortable she was with Krav Maga. He'd learned to spot more vulnerable areas to exploit over the years. She'd managed to, tuck herself behind him, slipping him into a headlock as he broke her hold, bringing his fist to her face. Her forearm blocked it at the last second ready to strike with her own blow whenever their legs crossed causing an awkward descent onto the faded blue gym mats.

Gary landed first, his back emitting a loud smack. Elyse tumbled next, catching herself by pressing her hands on either side of him. The pause lasted only a moment, his cognac brown eyes linked with her hazels; their breathing ragged, sweat dripping from her toffee brown curl onto his cheek. The intensity weighed on them as Elyse caught herself leaning closer to him.

"You two need to get a fucking room." Royce hissed in disgust as he lifted himself the sparring ring ropes.

Elyse shot a look towards the American as Gary felt his heart race. There was something about being near a woman so ardent. Her body hot with an inner fire. Margaux's words echoed in his mind as he felt a surge of blood rush to his nether regions. _Even if you did so happen to dip your biscuit, as a French woman, I can appreciate knowing that my daughter has chosen so well._

Shifting uncomfortably, so as not to reveal his current predicament, he gently pushed her off.

"I'm not made of glass, mate. If you need me to get off, just tell me." Elyse playfully nudged him. "You alright? Your face is rather red."

Gary nodded, propping his legs up in a way that he could casually lean against them in hopes of not raisingany suspicions. To make matters worse, Archer whistled for their attention. "Captain wants to see you two." Seeing the grave expression on Archer's face dissipated any feelings of salaciousness as Gary rose, following Elyse out of the gym.

* * *

"Go onto base?" Margaux accent thickened, her brow raised.

"It'll just be until we're ready to leave." Price placed his hands around her rounded fists. " _Please_ , my pearl. Just give us a day to prepare." He knew not to poke a hissing viper when he saw one. Margaux was no exception; her darkened copper skin reminiscent of the sleek black adders he'd run into during his first tour in Sierra Leone. He'd grown to appreciate their seductive aura, finding solace in their hypnotic eyes. The day he was nearly attacked, was the same day he'd met Margaux. She'd finished an arms deal with the government and had just so happened to stumble across his path, stabbing the viper while never breaking eye contact with the younger _Leftenant_. She couldn't stand him at first. _Attached like a lost pup_ she called him. As much as her words stung, it was the truth. He'd been smitten with her from the moment she withdrew her blade from the viper's neck, content with the blood on her fingerless leather cuffs as she ambled into the sunset. Any chance he had, he'd convinced Gaz to cover for him before slipping away to find her at the only decent pub in Makeni. After buying a few drinks, he'd cajoled her into conversation. From the very beginning she made him earn every glance, laugh, embrace, kiss, and eventually every _moan_ he received. _British accents aren't enough to entice French women_ she teased. He blinked, bringing him back to reality as he peered into her vexed hazel eyes.

"John…"

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to that cesspool of testosterone you call a base."

He released an exasperated sigh, feeling Nikolai's bemused stare and Mactavish's affronted glare from the front the helicopter. Sabien shuffled in the belt that bound his wrists and feet together. His voice muffled by the gag at his mouth. Feeling a moment of compassion, Price lowered the gag just enough to let him speak. "You will have a better time convincing God to allow Lucifer back into Heaven than you will convincing this stubborn cow to budge." Earning himself a venomous glare from his sister, Sabien almost willingly allowed the gag to cover his mouth.

Nearing footsteps attracted their attention as Elyse and Gary approached before standing respectively.

"At ease." He motioned to Elyse to come closer to him. Raising a curious brow, Elyse rounded the Pave Low to see Margaux.

"Daughter."

"Mother."

Their curt responses could cut through the near tangible tension in the air; making Price question if this was truly a good idea. His gaze passed from one seething gaze to the other. Their relationship had become tumultuous after Elyse enlisted as even their holiday visits had become strained under the tension of Margaux's decision.

"You _left_ us." Elyse's voice hit a guttural low as she rounded her fists.

"Don't start with the accusations." Margaux rose slowly, shoulders tense, eyes austere as Price inhaled a sharp breath. "You are beyond your depths on this one, child."

"I did what was best for both of you." In an attempt to quell her rising anger, Margaux forced out a fiery exhale as she lowered her head. Margaux lowered her head, her eyes softening in contrast to the shifting of her legs. Price knew that stance, like a black adder readying a strike while luring prey with a false sense of confidence. "Separating the gem from her paradise was one of the most difficult decisions I've ever made."

"Don't give me that _shit._ " Elyse turned her head in disgust. Now was _not_ the time to be vulnerable to her manipulation. "She could have gone with you."

"You know she can't handle this lifestyle. She wasn't born to face this world." Margaux exposed her hands to her daughter, an attempt to seem vulnerable.

Elyse knitted her eyebrows, twisting her mouth in derision, arms crossed. "She's stronger than you give her credit for. Naïve but she still outsmarted _those_ halfwits." She said pointedly towards her miserable looking uncle.

Margaux failed to keep the glimmer of amusement from her eyes as she sighed, turning her head away from her daughter.

Elyse glimpsed the fleeting sadness in her mother's eyes as her heart sunk. Her attempts to bury her empathy hadn't become exactly easier since she enlisted. She had hoped that the battlefield would desensitize her. Making killing, torturing, hurtingpeople _easier_. In some instances, this had proven to be effective. Her skills improved, she'd risen through the ranks faster. In other instances, however, her empathy towards the ones she cared for remained _painfully_ intact.

The dissolving tension brought a sigh to Price's lips. "I'm glad to see that you two won't tear each other to shreds while we resupply. I understand the circumstances aren't perfect for a reunion, but there are more pressing issues at hand here." He turned to his goddaughter, a mixture of compassion and firmness in his eyes. "Your mother has found the location of your sister. She'll update you on all the details once you two get back to your sleeping quarters."

Elyse knew an order when she heard one, no matter how subtle it may have been. "Yes, sir." She nodded.

"Dismissed, Sergeant." Elyse began her walk towards the female barracks as Price tugged at Margaux's hand. "Please go easy on her. She's just as terrified for Esmè as you are."

A sad smile crept onto her face, Margaux pressed a kiss to his face. "You really are too good to me, John." He smiled as he watched her catch up to Elyse. Mactavish, Anderson, and Nikolai turned to face him.

"Alright, lads. We've got a shit ton to do and not nearly enough time to do it all."

"Sounds like business as normal." Nikolai smirked.

"Aye." Mactavish sighed before turning to Anderson. "Roach, come with me to the armory. I'm gonna need the extra hands."

* * *

Esmèrie winced, struggling against his vice grip.

"Dress quickly. We have to get out of here." She turned from his sight only to feel his grip at her burning wrist again. "No," He emphasized as if scolding a child. "You dress here. Last thing I need is you disappearing again." He shifted his gaze the other direction, holding her arm in place as she shrugged out of her wetsuit. She'd barely slid her scarlet tunic dress over her bra when the material snagged in her hair. She wriggled with it, using the hand in his grip as he looked glimpsed a tattoo on her right side. Her gaze snapped to his as he noticed her cheeks burn in embarrassment as he glanced away, a smirk evident under his balaclava. She'd began to struggle with her navy-blue thigh high stockings. Finally slipping her feet into her heeled boots, she attempted to comb through her hair with her fingers, sighing as she felt it already begin to dry. "Stick close to me. We gotta move fast. And _don't run off_." He pointed whisper made her swallow. "Are we clear?" She winced as his grip grew tighter. Reluctant to leave with the madman who just minutes ago was pointing his gun at her, she passed one final glance towards the ocean, an aching desire to do nothing more than return to her alcove, slip into her bed, and forget about the world that caused her such immense pain. He tugged on her arm, intense ambers waiting for her response. She nodded, swallowing any objections she held.

She'd only stepped closer to him when she felt Ghost shove her backward. His M9 aimed at the figures scanning the shoreline.

"There's Daniel." A gasp escaped the youngest and newest member of Black Dahlia. Esmèrie recognized the skittish brown-haired teen she'd known as Ardan. He'd been the most civil often bringing her shells from the beach when she was too depressed to leave Cillian's safehouse.

A gruff, irritated Irish accent reached their ears. "I can see that, you twit." Ronan, Cillian's right-hand man cursed under his breath. Turning his head towards the cove, he spit out his cigarette. "Go up there and check for any signs of her." The teen felt the older man shove him forward.

His flashlight neared as Ghost gripped the back of Esmèrie's head, nearly slamming her into the ground. She struggled, propping her weight on her hands however it didn't take much effort for Ghost to pin her beneath his weight. The flashlight passed over them, Ardan's breathing just mere feet from their faces. Ghost cupped Esmèrie mouth, gripping her just enough to prevent her from squirming. They'd remained undetected, Ardan's footsteps quieting.

Ghost peered around the corner, seeing the man return to the beach. "Let's go." Ghost breathed in her ear. Feeling another rush of heat to her cheeks, Esmèrie nervously found her footing as Ghost tugged her behind him. They darted towards the cliffside. The Black Dahlia members had their backs turned and with a bit of luck, he and Esmèrie slipped past. They'd managed to pass behind the parked car whenever Lochlan, a tall blonde with stubby forehead and pale green eyes spotted them. Kicking the door open, he fired at the two. Ghost grabbed Esmèrie shoving her forward into the forest. He began to fire, Lachlan's body hitting the ground with a final smack. Bullets sprayed from the blonde's MP5K as Ghost fired a deadly shot to his forehead. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Esmèrie's terrified hazels. When he didn't, his anger bubbled past his lips. "Fuck."

Esmèrie couldn't move her legs fast enough. Rushing from the gunfire, she made for the train station. _If I could just make it to the lab…_ She had just rounded the corner seeing the open door to the last train of the night, her hopeful smile fading from her features. Grasping air where her backpack should have been, she panicked. Her bag must have still been in the cove. Her heeled boots slid in the dirt, her gloved index finger snagging against the brick wall she peered around. Her toffee curls stuck to her face, cheeks reddened from running, and her chest heaved with ragged breaths. Her eyes widened at Lochlan's dead body. Ronan was on his phone, his back turned as Ardan gaped at the dead mercenary. By a twisted chance of fate, the teen looked at her as she tucked herself behind the corner. Leaning to her side, she clutched the feather pendant at her neck, her eyes fluttering shut. Controlling her breathing, she gripped the wall with her free hand, missing the shadow enshrouding her body. A gloved hand gripped her face, hey eyes shooting open. Panic kickstarted suffocation as she wriggled her body against the person behind her. Strong hands wrapped around her torso, a strange lull of ecstasy consuming her as she lost consciousness.


	5. Agreements

Author's Notes: This chapter took a turn into dub-con territory. Dubious consent is to follow.

* * *

"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler." — Friedrich Nietzsche

"I'm not asking you Price, I'm telling you-"

The screen went dark forcing General Shepherd to watch his face redden with rage. Smashing his fist on his desk, he huffed. It'd been nearly a month since Price, Mactavish, Anderson, and Lévesque were last seen. If he wasn't in such dire straits with the war at home, he'd have reported them to the brass for deserting. Regaining control of his anger, he lifted his head to hear a knock on his door.

"You called, sir?" Archer stood with his arms folded behind his back, eyes unreadable as always.

Shepherd sighed. "As the most senior member of the 141, I need you to explain to me how this happened."

Archer tensed slightly, his eyes looking past the General. "I have no idea, sir."

"No idea?!" He slammed his fist on his desk. "Four of your team members vanish and you play fucking possum?!"

Archer didn't respond, eyes unwavering from the spot he'd found on the wall.

"What Price and his squadron have done is irreprehensible." Shepherd inhaled a shaky breath. "If you…" His breathing became labored as he clutched under his arm.

"Sir, are you-"

"I'm fine, damnit!" Shepherd held his breath as Archer resumed his sight on the wall. Forcing the air from his nostrils, he rattled his knuckles on his desk. "You're experienced enough to make Captain, but you've not quite been in long enough to receive your pension, is that right?"

Archer reluctantly nodded.

"Listen, Ian…You find out where they went, and I'll see to it that you're put on the Captain's docket for upcoming year."

He'd kept the emotion out of his eyes as Archer nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"You're dismissed. And shut the door on your way out."

Archer sighed as he propped himself against the closed door, lifting his head, eyes closed. _What the hell have I gotten myself into this time?_

Making his way past the rec room, he ignored the throbbing headache forming in his temples. Apart from Toad, the others had grown actively more skeptical of their CO's disappearance.

"Three years in the gulag and he pulls this shit?" Meat's voice reached his ears as a glass broke.

"I knew Ghost was unstable from the moment I saw him. But Mactavish and Price didn't seem like the type to desert."

"We don't know that they deserted." Toad protested.

"Oh? And what would you call this? Taking a leave of absence? During a goddamn war?!" Scarecrow heightened the tension, kicking the table.

A grumble of arguments spread from the open window as Archer shoved his hands in his pockets. He could feel someone's gaze on his shoulders as he turned.

"Got a spare fag?" Evans' eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he shrugged.

"Know anything about Price?"

Evans lit the cigarette he'd given her, a spark present in her face before giving way to a comforting glow. She shook her head. "Taylor said she returned to their shared room to find Levèsque's bunk emptied out, leaving no trace of ever being there."

Archer sighed, lifting his head to the moonlit sky.

"How far up your ass is Shepherd?"

The question irked him more than he'd let on as he huffed. "Nothing new."

Evans tapped her cigarette, eyeing him up. "You seem tense."

"Yeah? You got a remedy for it or something?"

Evans smirked exhaling a puff of smoke. "And if I do?"

The two eyed each other, a sneaking salaciousness filling the space between them. "I'm not one to dip in the company ink." Archer affirmed watching Evan's smirk.

"I've been told otherwise." Stepping on the cigarette, she winked at him before turning away.

Archer narrowed his eyes at her as she turned towards the women's barracks. _The hell she going on about?_ Her hips seem to curve a bit more, her tone more inviting. Overlooking his shoulder, he debated on how much he wanted to deal with his fellow squad's nonsense.

She'd just vanished from his sight whenever he felt his legs move without thinking. This decision wasn't the greatest but at that moment, it was better than anything else he had going for him…

* * *

Margaux rubbed her bleeding knuckles as she turned towards the window; ignoring her brother's ragged breathing. Three days they'd been in Kerala, and in that time, he'd given little to no intel. He slumped forward, blood dripping from his nose. She could hear Mactavish enter the room, eyes fixed on Sabien. India's rainy season had started as the humid heat clung to the walls of the small house they'd taken refuge in. There had been a leak in the ceiling, as water rippled a filling pail.

"Sabien, this isn't that difficult. Just tell me where Esmèrie is."

"I told you," He hacked up more blood between wheezing breaths, his chest rising and falling as he attempted to sit up. "I don't know. I never kept in contact with your attack dog."

Margaux's fist connected with his face as he groaned. "Where is my daughter?"

A dark chuckle escaped his bleeding lips. "I'm surprised she never tried to contact you. Especially after the _agreement._ "

"What agreement, you _bâtard_?!" She shook him by the collar. "Fucking tell me!"

Soap propped himself against the wall, eyes shooting from Sabien to Marguax. She panted, hair strung about her face, chunks of bloodied flesh ripping from her hand with every strike. Her eyes had been ablaze for days now. The effects of stress showing in her face. In comparison, Sabien while beaten was far from confessing anything substantial. The glint of deceit in his lackluster brown eyes were too vibrant for a prisoner. They'd searched through his file, looking for any hint as to where Esmèrie could have gone. They were on borrowed time with nothing to show for it. He repressed a sigh. They were spending far too much energy on this. He understood that Esmèrie held a tie to Makarov but was it worth the amount of time spent? He doubted it.

"Why?" Margaux's voice hit a guttural low.

"It was to cement a place in Makarov's Inner Circle. He took a liking to her during our Prague arrangem-" Margaux's hand cracked against his face.

"She was fourteen, you sick fuck!"

" _Oui."_ He gasped before swallowing the increasing amount of blood in his throat. "We offered other options. _You_ were brought up for example." He chuckled. "But he didn't want a cunt that'd been used by that Brit you like to fuck." His hoarse laugh filled the room. " _Non._ He wanted Esmèrie because she is- _was_ untouched." His cackle was cut short whenever he coughed.

Rage filled Margaux's eyes as she withdrew her Desert Eagle. Jamming it into her brother's mouth, silencing him. Her finger wrapped around the trigger, mouth parted as short almost frantic breaths escaped her.

The door swung open as Price led Elyse and Anderson inside. "The police found the bodies of two foreigners this morning. One of them could be Hawke."

Margaux jerked her head in Price's direction. She slowly removed the gun from Sabien's mouth before tugging his body into the backroom. A fleeting glare ended their latest confrontation, the slammed door bringing him just the amount of privacy he needed. The stout man wiggled in his binds. They'd loosened enough for him to reach for his shoe. Ripping open the sole, he retrieved a flip phone. Flicking it open, he brought the device to his ear. "We are here." He choked, wheezing while holding his side. " _Noire_ is here with Price. Yes, that's right. And you know what must be done?" He paused listening to the person on the other end of the call. A cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "Good."

* * *

Margaux slammed the door before entering the room she and Price shared. His footsteps quietly entered as the door closed.

"John…" Emotion welled in her throat. The words were too painful to utter as she brought a hand to her mouth.

"We're gonna find her. And she's going to be fine." Price wrapped his arms around her waist. "She is your daughter after all."

" _Our._ " The word weighed heavy on her tongue as she felt him tense behind her.

"Margaux…" His tone shifted—deepened, his eyes narrowing. He reached for her shoulders, halting when she jerked away from him.

"Don't."

"Then explain, _please_ …" He sighed. When she didn't respond, he made for the edge of the bed. His age catching up to him in that moment as he rested on the bed.

Her eyes fluttered close. The darkness of her lids transporting her to the past nearly twenty years before.

 _Her time in Makeni was nearly over as the day came when she would have to tell John good-bye. He'd invited her to his place in London, to the family home he owned. She declined, reminding him that she wasn't made to be tied to any person or construct that enforced monogamy. He kissed her eagerly that day, as always. Greeting her in French, as always. She'd asked to meet at the pub instead of the hotel. He knew something was wrong by her expression as not even she could shake the emotion that had established its home in her heart since meeting him._

" _John, I have to return home. My father isn't well." The severity of her father's condition was still unclear as she'd received information from her brothers less than apt wives._

 _His face softened, a gleam of concern in his eyes. "My pearl, is there anything I can do?"_

 _A sad smile crept onto her face. Her heart tucked into itself as she nodded. "You can make our last night memorable. We're both going to need it."_

 _That night in the hotel, he'd fulfilled her desires in more ways than she could ever describe. Her back had long since pressed against the window, her legs hoisted and wrapped around his waist. Her breasts bounced in rhythm with his thrusts as they locked eyes before she pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. His nails dug into her back as he increased his speed. Unable to contain her sounds, she gripped his shoulders as they relinquished themselves into ecstasy._

John remembered that night. The way her walls clenched around him made him lose control in a way he'd not felt before.

 _His legs shook as he groaned in the curve of her neck. "Margaux…" Her name was a prayer on his lips. His release was his offering. And her affection, her yearning, her love for him. That was his blessing._

"When I called you that night…You were in London, readying yourself for Pripyat." Her words were slow, her gaze too heavy to meet his eyes. "I needed you…to be there. Not just for me but for our girls."

Her voice didn't feel real to him in that moment. He felt suspended from his reality as the memories of the past flooded his mind in reverse. Watching Elyse graduate from boot-camp, his eyes beaming with pride. Waving to Esmèrie from the helicopter, his heart sinking with anguish knowing he wouldn't be able to kiss away her tears at night. Catching teenage Elyse sneaking in after a night of partying. Coaxing adolescent Esmèrie to sleep after she spent days obsessing over her latest theory. Pretend sparring with toddler Elyse. Reading with Esmèrie. Rocking them to sleep in each arm. Infant Elyse's first nuzzle of approval. Esmèrie's first gummy grin of gratitude.

Her sniffling brought him out of his trance. Margaux seemed so small crumbled on her knees, tear stains lining her face. Her hands pressed into the floor, her head tucked into her chest as she sobbed. Where he expected to feel resentment, he felt understanding. He blinked at the woman who'd given him his most cherished gift, a lifetime spent with a family he didn't believe he deserved. "Margaux," He placed one hand at the small of her back, lifting her chin with the other. "Thank you." Kissing her tearstained lips, he felt her melt into him. Hands pressed against his chest, head tilted, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks.

"We're going to find her. I promise I won't stop until our daughter is safe in your arms."

* * *

He closed the door to the bedroom of the abandoned villa. The dimly lit room held thinning wood floors, peeling walls and a noisy, dripping pipe that throbbed in rhythm to his headache. Esmèrie rested beside the wall and the dresser. Her knees were slightly bent, hands tied in front of her, her wide set eyes closed. Her light snoring indicated that she hadn't woken in his absence giving him a moment to study her. She held a quiet defiance in her, a strong spirit well hidden behind her innocuous face. A spirit he'd have to break in accordance to his orders. E _xtract without mercy._

A small yawn parted her lips as she sat up against the wall. Lifting her aching legs, she blinked curiously at her bare knees. Her stockings were gone, replaced by a rope tying her ankles together. Fear spread through her veins, her heart racing, her thoughts in a frenzy. _What happened? Where is…_ Her frantic hazels locked with his sharpened amber. Her mind reeled. The alleyway she had been in. The arms around her torso, the grip around her mouth, the suffocation…the inexplicable _ecstasy_. A sudden fire ignited between her legs as she clenched her bare thighs together. Her attention shot towards Ghost as she began to tremble. "W-where am I?" Her voice shook, eyes growing wide.

"A villa."

"W-why am I unclothed?" She yanked her arms, realizing that they were tied to a hook in the ceiling. Humiliation burned her cheeks as she averted her gaze.

"Don't you remember," His stare hardened. "You were told not to run. And despite this, you did so anyway."

She flinched at his words, the visage of Lochlan's dead body flashed in her memory. Esmèrie could feel tears prick at her eyes, her voice trembled. "I c-couldn't b-be there…" Her hazels shot to his mocking amber eyes.

"Why?" His tone lowered. "Because of the shooting?"

She felt herself begin to tremble, fearing that he'd snap her in half with just a look. "P-please tell me who you are… o-or at the very least why you're doing this."

A glint of bemusement filled his eyes, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Those details will depend on how forthcomin' you are with me."

She knitted her brows in confusion, her wide set eyes made her look even younger than what she was. "I don't understand."

"You will, dove." He sighed, rising from the ground to remove his skull balaclava. Placing it on the dresser, he opened the drawer to retrieve something she couldn't quite recognize. "Now start from the beginnin'. Who are you? And what's your tie to Makarov?"

"I don't…" She shook her head in confusion. "I don't know who that is…"

He frowned at her, slamming the drawer shut as she winced.

"Startin' off with a lie isn't going to help you any. The longer you take with this, the less patient I'm gonna to be." His icy tone caused her to shudder as he towered over her.

A dangerous thought occurred to her. Esmèrie's stomach shifted anxiously, the words she uttered slipped off her tongue. "Will it change anything?" Amber eyes narrowed as Ghost waited for her to elaborate, his steps slow and daunting. "Will the outcome of why you're here change depending upon how long I take?"

"This isn't a game you want to play." His voice hit a guttural low causing a violent shiver to overwhelm her spine.

"But the results could change, correct?" The words carelessly slipped into the air. "Otherwise you'd have used more formidable measures to get me to speak." The naivety in her voice made him question if she realized how much of her fate resided in the hands of one of the most feared men on the planet. To say he was no stranger to torture would be an understatement. Ghost had earned more than a fearsome reputation in his time. Torture beyond fathomable comprehension. Worse yet, he'd become _specialized_ , catering to nearly every kind of practice known to man. His knuckles cracked, irritation evident on his features when she didn't flinch from him. Her petite build hadn't yielded to stress. In these kinds of situations, he could expect to see wrinkles, undereye circles or other signs of stress. And yet, here she was a little _too well_ preserved for his tastes. His thoughts must have shown in his eyes, her gaze flittering until he reached to her level. Revealing a ball gag in one hand and a leather belt in the other, he watched her eyebrows knit together, her perplexed hazels meeting his. _She doesn't have a clue what she's in for._ He suddenly gripped the back of her head, fingers knotted within toffee curls, yanking her head upward. He muffled her yelp with the ball gag, tying it quickly behind her head as she pried at the piece. Something dormant inside him awakened. Her wide-set eyes were even larger with her mouth covered as he felt himself stiffen. Gripping the rope binding her wrists and ankles together, he tossed her over his knee.

"You called for more formidable measures…" He felt her tense, a sharp inhale slipping past the gag as she writhed. The jingling of the belt caused her to grip at something- _anything_ near her. Settling for the rope holding her hands and feet together, she screwed her eyes shut. The slap to her barely covered ass caused her to reel upwards. Her neck craned as her hazels pleaded for him to stop. Her muffled sounds combined with her struggling kickstarted a reaction he wasn't expecting.

She could feel his arousal poking at her stomach. The painful lashes fueled by more intensity with every strike. Her twisting began to slow as only her energy escaped his vice grip. Once he finally stopped, she could do nothing more than fold over his knees. Ghost was nowhere near gentle in his decision to plop her onto the ground almost pleased with the muffled scream that cracked her voice. He removed the gag, keen amber eyes watched the saliva drip down her neck to the valley between her breasts as she heard a sound akin to a groan escape his lips. Her eyes were still closed as she writhed to her bended knees. Her skin was ablaze as she clawed at her legs, whimpers spilling from her mouth.

She'd been struck by her uncles in the past, but this was different somehow. The atmosphere contained a distinctive level of punishment she'd not experienced. Her shoulders hunched, her neck raised to meet his eyes. He hardened against his zipper, seeing her on the ground, weight pressed forward on her palms. _Lookin' more like a dog at her owner's feet._ He placed the ball gag into the drawer but propped the belt over his balaclava. When he turned towards her, she flinched under the harshness of his gaze.

"The sooner you explain how you know Makarov, the less I'll have to punish you. She winced at his words, eyes lowering to the floor.

"W-will you please untie me?" Her voice was soft but clear as Ghost glanced down at her.

"Only when you've earned it. Understood?"

She didn't respond as a growl lifted from his throat. He stepped forward, kneeling quickly to grip her chin. "When I speak you better bloody respond. Are we clear?"

She searched his eyes for any sort of compassion. Seeing none, she gave a reluctant nod as he released her. His footsteps vanished, leaving Esmèrie to her swarming thoughts and aching nether regions. Apart from the burning from her lashes, a fervent tingling caused her sex to throb. She didn't feel violated as she had in the past. Frightened by her body's conflicting reactions, she flattened herself onto the cool floor. Her heaviest tears pooling beneath her; her sobs filling the silence of the room.

* * *

"Understood." Dinesh nodded on his phone, snapping his fingers towards Faruq. The younger scientist sighed, leaning forward to hand him his laptop with an aggravated sigh. Faruq didn't bother to hide his frustration since Esmèrie officially joined Apotheosis. Having someone of a similar mindset helped ease the overbearing attitude Dinesh exhibited. She was of the belief that science, education, and technology were meant for everyone regardless of their socioeconomic status. Dinesh on the other hand, was intent on profiting off their inventions. In Esmèrie's absence, he'd contacted a Frenchman who had connected him with some of his business colleagues. They'd attempted to profit off the netting she'd created but were halted by the stringent French laws regarding patents and ownership rights. Whether Esmèrie knew of Dinesh's intentions were unclear to Faruq. He lifted his phone to check his message, dismay filling his expression. The iron door creaked open as Dinesh hurriedly ended the phone call to greet him.

"What a surprise, Professor! What brings you here?" A feigned smile tore open his lips as the Professor grimaced.

"Has Esmèrie returned, yet? I have questions about her theory on using tears to generate electricity."

Dinesh gave an exaggerated shrug. "Sadly, she has yet to answer any messages from either Faruq or I. Hope everything is alright."

The Professor dusted off his shoulder, shooting the briefest knowing glance towards the younger scientist. _The boy's as good a liar as a child with his hand in a cookie jar._

Faruq narrowed his dark eyes, locked in an intense stare with Dinesh while the Professor glanced from one to the other.

"When she arrives, have her come see me as soon as possible." He muttered, tightening his fist.

Neither Dinesh or Faruq knew Russian but from his tone, it sounded like insulting mutterings caught in the creaking of the metal door. The shadows swallowed him just as his chest began to pound excruciatingly. His breathing turned ragged, his hand gripping the wall. The dimly lit walk to his lab left him panting, the struggle to reach his work desk all too agonizing to contain. His wheezing filled the air, met only with the creaking of his chair once his legs buckled beneath him. Pressing the button on his tape recorder, he huffed, pounding his fist on the desk. Utensils and papers crashing to the floor.

"It is…" His eyes scanned the wall beside him, desperate to find the date on the small calendar. "Day 104. The treatment has ceased working…" His gasping continued. "I am beyond the window in which TP508 will prove any effectiveness…However," He swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed. "I am not yet beyond the window to continue my trials with CH777." Tired grey eyes opened to see the cylindrical ice chest on his desk. Withdrawing a needle with a shaky hand, he pointed it at his bruised vein. "12th of December…treatment 6 using CH777. Inclusive therapeutic migration has shown signs of regeneration in the cells damaged by nuclear radiation _._ " The yellow liquid emptied from the needle as the Professor's breathing slowed. His eyes grew heavy, beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. Dizziness consumed his vision. He staggered from the table, struggling to travel the small distance from the desk to the bed in the opposite corner. He'd been grateful for Esmèrie's assistance. In his first trial using the CH777, he suffered intense hallucinations that would cause him to shout in slurred Russian. She had been patient in tending to him. Faruq was a fourth-generation doctor who switched to regenerative science early on in his career. His distanced guidance along with Esmèrie's kindness saved the Professor from injuring himself during his delirium. A twinge of worry struck his heart. The lab had grown more solemn since her disappearance. It seemed quite odd that she's promised to only be gone for a day and now, a week later, she had entirely vanished. _This isn't like her._ He retrieved her phone from his pocket, steadily dialing her number. Her voicemail answered as he sighed, ending the call. Reclining against his pillows, he closed his eyes. If he still prayed, he would have requested that she be brought back unharmed. Decades worth of hiding underground, burying himself from the sun let alone God's eye, made him forgo any belief in a promising afterlife. _Just get back here, kid. Alive. Happy. Hopeful._

* * *

Anderson could hear the shower from the room he, Mactavish, and Levèsque shared. Their assorted sleeping bags were on separate walls, each made impeccably in accordance to Mactavish's expectations. Their assorted packs were marked with in insignia to differentiate them from each other as Anderson knelt to see Levèsque's kit. A circular symbol with Y shaped line cutting across the divided center gleamed in the moonlight. The sleek metal cooled his palm, his fingers tracing over the emblem. His curiosity got the best of him, unfocused on his surroundings. The rushing water had stopped, the door allowing a cloud of steam to reveal Elyse in her towel. She stopped mid-step, eyes fixed on the blond leaning over her bag. She cleared her throat, annoyed hazels watching him stiffen. "Can I help you, Roach?"

He stammered, rising awkwardly. "I wasn't sure what that was…" He pointed towards the insignia on her pack.

"Ah. It's the empathy symbol. Keeps Esmè close."

He nodded, apologizing, a nervous hand on the back of his head. Elyse shrugged. "No worries. You aren't harming anything." There was a surprising gentleness in her voice, her eyes trailing the emblem with fondness. "Have you…" She swallowed the emotion in her throat "Heard anything? Any updates?"

Roach shook his head, twisting his mouth. "Sorry."

She gave an impassive shrug. "Not your fault." She felt his stare linger, trailing to her breasts before darting back up to her face. A glint of mischief filled her hazels. "Been awhile, eh?"

He flushed, shaking his head in confusion. "S-sorry?"

She chuckled, licking her lower lip, eyes narrowing at the blush on her fellow soldier's face. "Where's the Captain?"

"On watch." He gulped at how easy his responses had been around her since leaving base. He knew he should have left. That he shouldn't have been so apt to allowing his stare to fall to her dripping figure. Spearmint and Eucalyptus greeted his senses as he swallowed. He could still feel her toned arms around his neck. Her heated body pressed his, the beads of sweat dripping down her face. Her gaze glancing towards the door as he shifted himself. "I should go…" He cleared his throat. "…Let you get dressed."

"We share the same room, Roach. I can dress in the bathroom."

He wanted to ask why she hadn't done so at first. Why provide the temptation in a place where they _had_ to be close to each other? His body heated watching the steam radiate from her shoulders, her towel slipping down her cleavage as she tied her hair back. A smirk tugged at her lips. "Since you're already there, would you hand me my shirt?" Roach gulped, following her stare to the sleeping bag. A black tank top and cargo pants lie folded on her pillow. He nervously lifted the clothing, extending his arm towards her. Her scent was intoxicating, heightening his senses. Her fingers brushed against his. The thin towel doing little to hide her figure. "Thanks…" Her breathy tone sent a violent shiver up his spine as goose bumps pimples his flesh. "Roach…"

"Yeah…" His half-lidded cognac eyes focused on her plump lips spreading into a grin.

"I need my shirt."

Without realizing it, he'd clung to the fabric, just inches from her chest. His fingers tensed at her areola, unwilling to graze it without explicit consent. As if reading his mind, Elyse propped herself forward, tilting her head, her lips parting. "Scared, boy?"

His brows furrowed, lip tensing. She had him trapped. He could walk away, pride demolished, or he could lean in _just…a…bit…more._

Their lips connected in a battle of wills. Inhaling each other, hoping to absorb each other's very essence. Roach felt her grip on his shirt, pulling him forward. He grunted, hands yanking her hips against his. He muffled her moan with a deep kiss. Not to be bested, her fingers rushed beneath his shirt, nails sinking into his shoulders. They pulled apart to breathe, ragged inhales meeting shaky exhales. "Their lust filled gazes interrupted by brisk knocking.

"Roach, get ready to take the next watch." Price's voice reached them as Anderson stiffened.

"Guess we'll have to resume this another time, _bug_."

His eyebrow twitched at the pet name, his eyes seeing the bemusement in her eyes. She rose to her toes to peck his lips. Resisting the shudder in his spine, he almost painfully stepped away from her intense stare, grabbing his pack and briskly making for the door.

* * *

Ghost exhaled the last puff of smoke from his cigarette, his foot stomping the remaining cinders into oblivion. He'd no sooner calmed his arousal whenever the muffled sound of Esmèrie's cries reached his ears. It was sickening, his reaction. He could remember a time when he didn't enjoy causing pain. The visage of his mother appeared in his mind, one of their final conversations together involved the horrible orders he had to carry out. It had been one of the last instances he could recall before his empathy became tainted.

Shuffling against the floorboards drew his attention from his thoughts as he looked towards the room where he kept Esmèrie. Replaying the way her eyes widened at the ball gag made him harden painfully against his zipper. He supposed he ought to bring her food. Grabbing the fruit basket from the counter, he shuffled towards the bedroom. The door creaked open as Ghost narrowed his eyes. While bound in the dark room, she'd managed to find her backpack. She'd just flicked open a pivot penknife whenever he charged her. Her screams filled the air as she dropped the blade immediately, kicking herself against a wall.

"Grabbing weapons now, eh?"

"I-it's not w-what you t-think…" She shook her head empathically. "I just need to cut the rope. _Se vos plai_ …my wrists are bleeding." ( _L'occitane French: please)_ Her breathing hitched as her eyes flickered from one eye to the other, waiting for his response.

He flung the knife into the front of the dresser, the strike causing a crack in the chipped wood. She crawled into the space between the dresser and the bed, tucking her hands over her breasts and clenching her legs shut, anticipating his next move. "Take it off." His tone was even more terrifying in the dark making Esmèrie clench in a way that brought just as much tearful confusion as it did inexplicable carnality.

She shook her head, gripping her breasts harder. Her night vision had struggled because of the radiation poisoning, forcing her to rely on her other senses. Turning her head, she heard him steadying his breathing, his body heat radiated up her leg towards her knee before drifting down her thigh. The near touch of his hand in such a delicate area sent a fire into her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her breathing hitched at his scent. Sea salt trapped within musk caused her to throb, goose bumps pimpled her flesh.

"Enjoying yourself?" He chuckled darkly. When she didn't respond, he cracked his knuckles while fisting her hair, tugging her face towards his. Her weakened eyesight focused on his lips. They spread into a menacing grin that distracted her just long enough for him to grip the panties from her hip with his free hand. Carelessly ripping them off despite her kicks and cries. An all new wave of humiliation seeped into her skin when they landed with a slap against the floor.

"Are you wet, dove?"

Kicking herself into a corner, she shot one hand between her legs, the other guarding her breasts. Her blubbers filled the stillness of the room whenever Ghost's warmth evaporated from her body. He vanished into the shadows in search of the light switch. The sudden change from darkness to light was overwhelming as Esmèrie screwed her eyes shut. In a moment, his hands were on her knees, pulling them apart.

She pleaded with him to stop, apologizing in both _Occitane_ French and English, and whimpering when she realized that her hand wouldn't be enough to stop his gaze. She'd made the decision to lessen the protection at her bra, crossing her arms down her chest, firmly pressing her palms between her legs. His fingers resumed their grip on her toffee curls, his gaze traveled to her protruding cleavage. He glimpsed the tattoo on her right ribcage, something akin to a geometric shape he surmised. His gaze shot to hers when he noticed her sniffling had all but ceased. Her eyes were wide with alarm as she overlooked his shoulder. His sight matched hers, as he turned his head. Spotting a collection of books spilling out of the bag, his eyes rested on the forest green leather ledger with gold lettering.

Esmèrie panicked, digging her nails into his face as she shoved him against the ground. Her weight wouldn't keep the soldier down long as she desperately tore herself from his grip. She managed two footsteps whenever the rope tying her hands and feet together snapped her onto her bare, aching ass. Feeling Ghost's grip on her shoulders, she thrashed and clawed at his arms. A string of colorful curses spilled from his mouth as he flipped her onto her back, restraining her in a knee-mount. In a last-ditch effort, she bit into his forearm earning a well-placed hold on her neck. The air escaped in painful gasps as she writhed beneath him. Feeling her vision darken, she lifted her head just enough to see the pile of books sprawled across the floor just inches away. Bitter tears stung her hazels as she prepared herself for unconsciousness. When the light resumed in her eyes, she frowned. His weight lifted off her chest, as she lowered her head in his direction. Feeling her arms lift above her head, she flinched feeling him rip the bra from her body. Her plump breasts bounced as she felt fresh tears of humiliation fall. Seeing the ledger between Ghost's lips brought about a new fury inside of her. But before she could object, her binds tightened around her wrists, a painful cry escaping her mouth. He lifted her to her toes, dangling her uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He turned his back to the brunette, tossing the book on the creaky bed. Aside from her books, journals, phone, and utensils; he noticed some of her undeveloped inventions. Lightbulbs, a thin tube with folded gauze, an all black rubix cube In a separate compartment, he noticed her hair and face products covering a puzzle box.

Ghost passed a fleeting stare her direction, practically hearing the fear overtake her heart as she stood on her toes.

Shaking the box, he returned to the bed. "What's in here?"

"N-nothing." She shook her head.

"You lyin' to me isn't going to make this any easier."

"It has nothing to do with Makarov! I swear!" She blurted, regret instantly seeping into her features.

Ghost tilted his head. "Is that so? So then does this," He lifted the ledger, flipping through the pages. "Have anything to do with Makarov?"

"Indirectly." Her voice was just above a whisper. She sniffled, tilting her body away from him. She couldn't control his gaze, but she could control how much of her he saw. It was a thinly veiled thought; her lies wouldn't convince herself otherwise.

"Look _pet_ ," He emphasized pointedly. "I'm not a patient person. You're gonna want to start talkin' a lot faster." He rose ominously, his thumb lifting her chin. She averted her gaze, mouth curved in, mind working quickly.

"If I tell you…about that ledger." She tilted her body towards the window. "Will you prevent Cillian from hurting someone?"

"Someone other than you?"

Esmèrie nodded. "There's this kid-"

"I don't do rescue missions." His eyes glazed in apathy. She'd passed the threshold of calm. Esmèrie felt a gnawing in her stomach, warning her against pushing the matter. She hadn't managed to steer clear of the storm raging in his eyes thus far. What was the point in trying to do so now?

"It wouldn't be a rescue mission, just a preventative one. If word got out that a member of the SAS was guarding-" His vice grip around her neck caused her to choke and spasm.

"Who told you I was SAS…"

"You…" She choked. "…just confirmed it…" Her face reddened, her eyes watering. She buckled, her weight pulling the rope taught against her flesh.

Ghost removed his restraint at the last second, loosening the rope just enough to bring her from the brink of unconsciousness. She collapsed to the floor, returning the color to her cheeks through painful wheezing. "Who dares wins…" He narrowed his eyes at her, towering above her fatigued body. "That's what my _Parrain_ taught me the day he left."

"And he went to find Makarov." His tone deepened, his body tensed, hand clenched around the ledger.

She nodded shifting from her back to her bum, pressing her weight onto her bended knees. "Yes." Her gazed lifted to the ledger in his hand. "I can't tell you about everything because I don't _know_ about everything to do with Makarov."

He paused in a way that made her wonder if he would punish her again. Instead in kneeled to her level. His hand folded around her chin, forcing her eyes to lock with his. "Then you'll tell me what you do know. And pet," He leaned in closer to her, his hot breath tingling against her lips. Flicking his knife, he held it to her throat, sliding the blade down her neck to her clavicle, furthering it until it reached the tattoo on her ribcage. "The more you hold back, the less I will."

* * *

Author's Note: What are your thoughts on character development? Plot? Anywhere I can improve on?


	6. Sacrifice

Hello everyone! First off, I'd like to thank Akira-Hayama for her reviews. Thank you so much, dearie. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC's and the plot.

Warnings: Language, More Dub Con.

* * *

"Do you suppose that sacrifice is the hallmark of moral action? – Just stop to consider whether sacrifice is not involved in every action that is done with deliberation, the worst as well as the best." — Friedrich Nietzsche

"It's always the quiet ones that surprise me the most. Never would have pegged you for a masochist, _pet._ "

Esmèrie loathed herself in that moment. Her body's reaction causing her to bite at her lip. His voice dipped in to a brusque low, her body responding with goose bumps spreading across her flesh. Her breathing hitched, feeling the tip of his blade against her skin.

She shook her head. "I'm not a…" Her voice dropped whenever her stomach flipped. His grin added a new shade of red to her cheeks.

"Masochist?" He chuckled. "Then explain to me why your eyes are dilated, or why your pulse is racing." He brought his head closer to hers. "I can only imagine how wet you are." His gaze traveled down her chest, past her perky breasts and to her hands. His tongue wet his lower lip before a realization struck him. "Oh, and…" He pressed the gleaming tip against her tattoo as she reclined, her crossed ankles raising off the floor. Her cry was forced, her eyes screwing shut. "That's for lyin'."

His hand left her chin, fingertips tempted to slide down her pooling breast. He resisted the urge, feeling as though he needed to extend some level of willpower. Besides, she hadn't earned his touch… _yet_ …

He slipped off his glove, tracing just above her frame. He'd just reached the air above her hip, whenever she flinched. "Please don't." Her murmur was desperate, her voice struggling.

"Have you ever…" He left the question to linger between them. Feeling her lip quiver, Esmèrie looked away. _Will the degradation ever cease with him?_

In a moment of mercy, he sat beside her with a bored groan. Amber eyes felt her gaze glance towards the knife. She bit her lip, hazels burning with tears and exhaustion. Ghost could see she needed rest but with his order providing the strictest timeline, he'd have to push her to her limits. He could hear Shepherd's voice in the well of her mind. _Crush her spirit._ _Leave her nothing to hope for._

"Esmèrie." Her softest whisper was barely audible.

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.

"To answer your first question. My name is Esmèrie Levèsque."

"And your tie to Makarov?"

She shook her head. Tempted to pull on her locks again, he stopped when her stomach growled. She slapped a hand to her stomach, hoping to quiet it. When it continued, she muttered an exasperated apology. Saying nothing, he rose and approached the dresser. Returning with the bowl of fruit, he could practically hear her salivate at the apple in his ungloved hand. "You can have it if you tell me how you know Makarov."

Esmèrie thought for a moment, her eyes shooting from the fruit to his face. "He…knows my family." She reached for the apple when he pulled it from her.

"And…"

She heaved an exasperated sigh. "He came to us for an arms deal. My _grand_ - _père, oncles,_ and I met him in Prague a few years ago. He…" Her growling stomach interrupted her, eyes lifting to the apple.

"He…" Ghost motioned for her to continue.

"He…"Her gaze dropped, her hands rounding at her knees. "He liked what he saw that day."

 _She'd been nervous. Anxiously tugging at the hem of her skirt. Traveling to Prague wasn't ideal but as her grandfather's primary care taker, it was necessary. He was brilliant and had raised the family out of poverty through arms dealing. However, after the death of his wife, his memory began to suffer. He'd wander aimlessly through the Levèsque estate, searching for the phantom of the woman he'd spent 35 years with._

 _"Margaux…" Her attention was drawn from the window to the open door where Aristide stood. Esmèrie had long since accepted that he no longer knew who she or any of the other grandchildren were. The litter were kept in a separate wing of the mansion, an attempt to preserve the pride of the family patriarch. Esmèrie was the exception. Her long toffee curls shaped her face the same way they shaped her mother's. Her brightened wide-set hazels lite up when she saw him. Her patience, dedication, and unyielding optimism radiated in her efforts. Even the sound of her voice resembled so close to Margaux's that the rest of the family could no longer differentiate the two._

 _"We must go Margaux. The Americans need arms for the Gulf War."_

 _She fought to prevent the smile on lips from wavering as her heart tucked into itself. In his mind, it was Fall of 1989. He was thirty years younger and her maman was still in her twenties. "I know about that garish Brit you've been sneaking in through her window at night, Margaux. While I may not be pleased to know that you fancy a **le rosbif**. (Insult for English Lit: Roast Beef) I am content to see you so happy." A coy smile spread through her features as Esmèrie realized this garish Brit had to be her Godfather. How cruel could the mind be? He was so certain, so firm in his belief of what the world was like despite painstaking differences. It may only last a moment, but its effects were far reaching as she swallowed, feeling his kiss on her forehead as she bit at her lower lip. He extended his arm waiting for her to loop her arm through. They'd entered the room welcomed by a long table with Makarov and his men on one side, and Esmèrie's family on the other. In the center Makarov stood, offered a muttered greeted, before sitting down with an impatient sigh. Helping her grandfather to his seat, she sat between the two men._

 _Immediately uneased by his intense glances, Esmèrie turned her head towards her grandfather as he spoke. The virtuosity that he bore was acute and unyielding to the Makarov's expectations. Their initial arrangement was no different than any other, trading arms for money was a business in which her grandfather was unrivaled. A smugness spread across his features, whenever Aristide motioned for her to hand him the agreement to sign. Makarov, however was not to be outshined in this arrangement. He grasped her hand firmly enough to prevent her from sliding the pen in Aristide's direction._

 _"And what incentive do you have to follow through with this agreement?" His voice was like the stringent bowing on a violin. His incisive tongue strong enough to cut down anyone in his path. He turned his gaze on Sabien, who stood just behind Esmèrie. "All of our contracts require a blood relative to be present." He slapped a hand to her shoulder, as she resisted the urge to flinch. "She will serve as a placeholder for our family." The words stung her ears as she gripped the hem of her skirt below the table. Feeling Makarov's stare boor into her, she peered through her peripherals at him. The slightest smirk tugged at his lips. She broke the stare when a hand reached hers. " **Je sais que tu peux gérer ça**." Her grandfather whispered. (I know you can handle this.) " **Et je serai fier de toi. Comme je le suis toujours. "** (And I will be proud of you. Just as I always am.)_

 _Esmèrie stiffened, blinking away her tears. She had no right to wallow in self-loathing. Her family needed her more than ever. And besides, it was a business trip. What was the worst that could happen?_

Ghost could see the distance hollowing out her soft hazels. She wasn't present minded enough for this. A twinge of sympathy tugged at his heart, his hand lowering to hand her to the apple. Tucking his thumb beneath her chin, he tugged her head in his direction. "You can eat now, pet." He waited for some form of protest, a whine, a plea, something. Instead he was given a glazed expression, her blank stare looking through him. Her legs buckled beneath her as she collapsed. Kneeling to the ground, he checked for a pulse. Her eyes fluttered, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she mumbled incoherently.

Cradling her, he set her onto the bed careful to not cause any damage to her in this state. Shepherd did still want her alive, after-all.

She grew limp against him, lips muttering something in French. Their hands brushed over each other, her fingers grasping his hand. Her gaze struggled to lift to his eyes as her breathing became ragged.

"I need…" She motioned towards the bottle of medication on the bed. He shook the bottle, only a handful of pills remaining inside.

"What's this for?"

Tears pricked at Esmèrie's eyes. "Please don't take those…"

Pensive amber eyes studied her weakening figure. There wasn't anything in the report regarding a medical condition. Something this urgent shouldn't have gone unnoted. Twisting the cap, he watched her breathing hitch, her hand shooting forward in a shaky attempt to grab the bottle.

Gripping her hand, Ghost glimpsed the label. Rising from the bed, he reached for the apple and the water bottle on the dresser. He'd been decent enough to slice off pieces, providing the first bit of comfort in her time at the villa. She'd gone as far as licking his palm and fingers, eagerness getting the best of her. His chuckling reached her ears, the warmth of his fingers pressed inside her mouth. She'd instinctively suckled, eyes closing. Her hand had traveled to his wrist, squeezing gently. Her eyes lifted to meet his, lustful hazels fluttering behind thick eyelashes.

He felt himself stiffen. _Get it together._ Ghost chided himself. _She's a potential threat and you're still extracting information. But those eyes…Like slits in the soul._

Her suckling continued with her tongue lapping around his finger, pressure drawing him closer to her throat. Flicking the lid of the water bottle, he tilted the liquid into her mouth; her chin lifting to lock her gaze with his. She swallowed, eyes never breaking the stare, making him question if she knew what she was doing. Salacious gazes, tender squeezes, and a spark of yearning had no place in this situation.

Her phone vibrated just beneath her feet. In her haste, she dived forward, causing her head to spin. Her vision blurred, careening to the side with a groan. Ghost took his time walking towards the edge of the bed. Her weakened state slowed her reflexes, giving him ample time to remove the device from reach. His brow lifted seeing the name _Cillian_ on the small screen.

"Who…is it?" Her croak struggled from her throat as she pressed her weight onto her unsteady palms.

"Cillian."

Esmèrie froze. Even in her diminished state she knew this was a test. Cillian needed to find a means to determine where she was. If she were underwater, the background noise would be silence. However, this close to the ocean, he'd hear the crashing waves and seagulls. Her gaze lifted to Ghost. Then there was the variable of _him_. He'd kept her hidden, prevented her from knowing time of day, fed her the bare minimum and now he'd held one of the finite means to communicate with the outside world.

He could see her calculating, her eyes gaining renewed focus. He'd boarded up the windows, limiting the light in the room. Despite this, she'd been able to hear the muffled waves of the sea. The villa was tucked away from sight, making any escape she'd planned difficult. She'd have two options ultimately. Getting lost in dense forest surrounding them or tossing herself off a cliff. Based on her previous actions, he couldn't take the chance of her choosing the latter.

Silencing her phone, he tossed it in the growing pile of belongings resting on the dresser. Her laptop rested on a chair nearby. Dread filling her as she assumed that he'd gained access into her files, learning that it wasn't just Makarov she'd been hiding from.

Her eyes trailed to the bottle of pills in his hand. "How many are left?"

Twisting the top, Ghost poured out the remaining pills. "Five."

She grimaced, swallowing the fear building in her throat. "I'll need to see someone for more."

"That's not going to happen."

She shook her head. "You don't understand. Those pills have been helping with my symptoms. However, I'll need a more advanced treatment soon. That treatment is available at the lab." Regret hung at her words. She knew she had no business expounding on Apotheosis but what choice was there. He'd either kill her before she ran out of medication or he'd torture her while her radiation poisoning worsened. Guilt weighed heavy on her conscious, reminding her that she didn't really deserve the former option.

He leaned onto his palms, face inching closer to hers. "And what will you do for it?"

Her brows furrowed. "Do?"

He nodded. "You can't expect something for nothing, pet."

She swallowed, blood rushing to her cheeks. "I've already told you all I know about Makarov."

He clicked his tongue, tilting his head. "But we know that's not the truth, now is it?"

Averting her gaze, she worried her lip. She didn't want to go back to _that_ any more than she wanted to go to back to the night with Cillian. She wanted to go back to feeling safe enough to let this man touch her in a way that she'd only enjoyed once before. _Elyse._ Their verboten touches couldn't— _wouldn't_ be understood by him. Her stare returned to his bemused ambers. "He wanted something I couldn't give."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?" His tone shifted. Gone was the stranger who'd fed her softly from his hand. This was the soldier talking. Eyes darkened, expressionless. She could hear his knuckles cracking into the blanket.

Choosing not to respond wouldn't help her any more than it would extend his patience.

He was running out of time. Shepherd's call had been curt, urgent, impatient. His gruff orders rang out in Ghost's mind as he inhaled a sharp breath. _You do what you must to get that intel. We've got a war to finish._

Fisting her curls, he ignored her shriek, yanking her forward. She pulled backwards, defying at the wrong moment. Her body reached the ground with a thud and a grunt. How she'd managed to grip his hand holding the medication didn't matter as the pills came crashing to the ground directly under his boot. She'd frantically snuck her hand under him, wincing at the crack emitted from her wrist. She'd managed to save just one. Tucking it into her palm, she tugged her arm under his boot.

His ambers glowered at her, a flash of defiance in her hazels. She wouldn't yield. Not like this. He'd smash in her skull before reaching her spirit.

Her thoughts must have reflected in her eyes as he lifted his boot just enough for her retrieve her hand. Tossing the pill into her mouth, she gave the faintest smirk at her small victory.

 _Savor it. You're gonna need it._ He yanked her forward, her feet propped beneath her. She refused to crawl, lifting herself at full height, reaching his collarbone. Gripping her head, he tugged her towards the bathroom. In one swift move he'd flipped her naked form into the tub, a pained cry escaping her lips.

The water roared through unused pipes, cascading over her. She clamped her legs shut, splaying her hands in front her, turning her head towards him. Her persistent hazels sharpened their gaze. He knelt to the tub, pinning her arms above her head. With his free hand, he turned the faucet towards the hottest setting, watching her exposed body writhe and thrash under the scalding water. She screamed, eyes screwing shut, her nails digging into his hand.

"How does Makarov know you?" His voice cut through her screams.

She shook her head emphatically. "I already told you! He knows my family!"

Flicking his knife with his free hand, he dragged the tip between her clavicle, a small crimson trail dripping down her chest. Her head reclined, agonizing screams echoing off the walls. Her voice cracked, resorting to French. He'd picked up enough phrases hanging around the SAS linguist to know she was calling for help. He dug the blade in deeper, just enough to draw more blood. She kicked her legs, sliding against the slick tub. Her chest heaved, the trail of blood sliding down to her stomach.

"Makarov…I..." Her words struggled to escape gritted teeth. "I was supposed to be his…" The admission halted her thrashing. Ghost lifted the blade from her skin, watching her head sink towards her heaving chest. "My family made a deal that if I were married to Makarov, it would cement my family's place among those closest to Makarov." She sniffled, turning her head from him. She couldn't take his disgusted stare.

"Your family traded you for a place in Makarov's ranks?" The words tasted so foul to him. In all the years of extracting intel, the greatest repulsion he had was trafficking others.

She nodded, shoulders deflated. She wanted nothing more than to disappear in that moment. She could still feel Makarov's hand on her thigh beneath the table, massaging it while Sabien pretended not to notice. He'd been invited to their home, meeting her aunts, her cousins. She'd been expected to swallow her reluctance and play hostess despite her churning stomach. He'd groped her briefly, cornering her in the empty formal dining room just before dinner. Her first introduction to his touch had been so hurried she didn't know how to process it. It wasn't until it manifested into panic attacks interrupting her education so extensively that she had to be homeschooled just to manage her symptoms. That day had been devastating. Knowing she wouldn't be able to join her sister in the upcoming grades, crushed her.

She was lost in thought again. Ghost released her wrists, allowing her arms to lower to her sides. She didn't seem to register the action, her eyes transfixed on the wall.

Turning off the faucet, Ghost felt a pang of guilt in his chest. It was cruel how she, barely out of her teens managed to be caught up in all this. Grabbing a towel, he'd gently turned her towards him. Pressing on the pin sized wound. Not even the pain registered as her hollow hazels held back tears. Once the bleeding stopped, Ghost draped a towel over her reddened skin. Cradling her, he was surprised at the sudden warmth around his neck. She snaked her arms around him, her face buried into his chest. The air chilled her skin, goose bumps spreading across her flesh. Setting her on the bed, he tipped his weight onto hers, only intending to gently lower her when their eyes locked. Her wide set eyes searched his for a solace he couldn't give her. _Not here. Not like this._ A silent plea filled those sweet hazels whenever he realized her hands no longer warmed the base of his neck. They'd traveled downward, one hand placed near his belt, the other on his thigh pocket.

Feeling a slight tug at his belt loop, he gripped her hand, eyes narrowing. "No, dove. You were good but not that good."

She averted her gaze, releasing him as he stood from the bed. "Now I need to go take care of somethings. If you promise not to cause any trouble, you can get dressed and I'll consider letting you get some fresh air."

She nodded. "Thank you, erm…" Her voice drifted off, her eyes searching his.

"Sir is fine for now, dove."

"Thank you, sir." A slight smile tugged at her lips, as he nodded before reaching the dresser, grabbing his balaclava and sunglasses before exiting the room. She waited for the familiar latch indicating that she'd been locked inside before moving her hand. Flicking open the blade, a gleam of confidence flickered in her hazels. His cargo pants pocket had a hole just big enough to slide the knife out of his pocket unnoticed.

Turning on her side, Esmèrie swung her legs to the side of the bed. Grabbing her clothes, she eagerly slipped on her boots. She only had enough time to shove her phone, laptop before approaching the door. As much as it pained her to leave behind the ledger, she couldn't afford to miss this window to escape. Feeling alongside the hinges, she reached the bobby pin she'd kept in the bottom of her bag. Inserting it into the lock, she carefully twisted the knob. Peering around the door, she gained a view of the rest of the villa. The one story, light stoned villa had a small hallway where she surmised Ghost went whenever he'd left her alone. Rising slowly, she felt a little unsteady walking for the first time in…days? How long had it been since she arrived her? It didn't matter. She needed to escape.

The closed door allowed for just the smallest bit of light to escape as her eyes followed the shadows maneuvering behind it. She heard his voice in addition to another's. A man with a gruffer, American accent. Scanning the hall, she doubted that Ghost would leave the front door unattended, making her only means of escape beginning and ending with the open window above the sink in the kitchen.

* * *

Elyse crept forward, crawling onto her stomach, legs stretched, arms propping her binoculars. She'd tracked down Cillian to a house near the beach. She'd have to soon return to the safe house, relieving Roach of his watch. But at least she could rest assured that the man who took her sister resided only a few miles away. The walk back gave her ample time to reflect on the events since leaving base. The news of Private Allen had rattled everyone. The subsequent attacks on American soil making things worse. The visage of her late friend caused her heart to tuck into itself. Their last conversation should have been more of a caveat than she realized.

 _It'd been raining that day. Most people remained in the rec room to avoid the sticky humidity, leaving ample space for her to ponder uninterrupted. She'd reclined on the patio railing, arms crossed, balancing her weight on her foot._

 _"Hey." He'd caught her off guard, her hazels whipped in his direction. He'd playfully put up his hands in mock surrender. "Just me, mate." His normally chipper attitude had been replaced with a quieter, despondent imitation that stung more than she'd let on. Her gaze softened, her head nodding towards the endless grey sky. "Reminds me of home."_

 _He nodded, a sadness rounding his dark eyes. "You know how you're always talking about finding purpose in life?"_

 _Elyse tilted her head in his direction. "Yeah?"_

 _"Why…" He opened his mouth, closing it suddenly as if asking wouldn't be worth the trouble._

 _"Why?"_

 _"Why bother? Do you think this life has any real meaning?"_

 _Elyse paused for a moment, blinking aimlessly before drawing in a sharp breath. "I believe that we have to make our own meaning in this life. And that just because mine is different than yours or anyone else's doesn't make it better or lesser."_

 _"And what if I don't like the way I'm meant to find my meaning?"_

 _The patio plunged into silence, her perplexed hazels locked with his dark brown. "Then you change your perception of what's meant to happen."_

 _He blinked, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Your perception is your reality, then."_

 _Elyse lowered her feet to the ground, sliding her weight closer to him. Her head leaned closer to his, her plump lips parting. "And what meaning do you want this moment to have?"_

 _"One that lasts more than a moment." He leaned in closer, pressing his lips against hers. Their tongues thrashed, tasting their essences from every angle._

 _He gripped her hips, pulling her between him and the metal bars. He pressed himself against her just as the winds picked up, bringing an air of forlorn between them. Their eyes fluttered open, hands laced tightly at their sides. "Don't forget me, Elyse."_

 _There weren't words for how she felt in that moment. Standing there, knowing somehow that she wouldn't see him again. Her heart folded, wilting under his almost tearful gaze._

She hadn't allowed herself to process the feelings she held for Allen. There wasn't time. However, in this moment, on an unused dirt road, it hit her. _Hard._ Her tears singed her cheeks, her face heated, her breathing hitched. Collapsing to her knees, she grit her teeth, desperate to prevent the sobs from escaping her. Her puddle of tears was matched by the clouds droplets, offering a humid solace to drown out her cries. The once dull ache grew into a rippling pound that threatened to cause her heart to burst. The sense of dread began to overwhelm her. Gripping the ground, she dug her nails into the wet sand. Struggling to breathe, she felt her phone vibrate. Flipping open the decade old phone, she gingerly lifted it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Elyse?"

"Esmè?!"


End file.
